THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


MUSIC 
LIBRARY 


O^fT* 


^^^130NVS0 


QUEENS   OF   SONG 


BEING  MEMOIRS  OF  SOME  OF  THE  MOST 


CELEBRATED  FEMALE  VOCALISTS 


■WHO    HAVE    PERFORMED    ON    THE    LTRIC    STAGE    FROM    THE    EARLIEST    DAYS  i 

1 

OF    OPERA   TO   THE    PRESENT   TIME.  ' 


TO   WlilCU   18   ADDED 


A  CHRONOLOGICAL  LIST  OF  ALL  THE  OPERAS 


THAT  HAVE  BEEN  PERFORMED  IN  EUROPE. 


By  ELLEN  CREATHORNE  CLAYTON. 


lllitlj  |)ovtraUe. 


NEW    Y  O  R  K  : 
HARPER    &    BROTHERS,    PUBLISHERS, 

FRANKLIN     SQUARE. 
1  8C5. 


t» 


I 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTEU  TAQK 

I.  Katherine  Tofts  and  Margarita  de  L'Epine 15 

/        11.  Anastasia  Robinson  (Countess  of  Peterboeodgh) 26 

*'°TIII.  Lavinia  Fenton  (Duchess  of  Bolton) 35 

IV.  Early   French   Singers.  —  Marthe   le   Rochois  —  La 

Maupin 43 

"V.  Rival  Queens — Francesca  Cuzzoni  and  Faustina  Bor- 

DONI 52 

VI.  Caterina  Mingotti 63 

VII.  Caterina  Gabrielli 71 

VIII.   Sophie  Arnould 80 

IX.  Antoinette  Cecile  Clavel  St.  Huberty 91 

X.  Gertrude  Elizabeth  Mara 97 

XI.  Anna  Maria  Crouch 125 

XII.  Anna  Selina  Storage 138 

XIII.  Elizabeth  Billington 153 

XIV.  Giuseppa  Grassini 173 

^      XV.  Angelica  Catalani 183 

XVI.  Josephine  Mainville  Fodor 213 

XVII.  Laure  Cintiiie  Damoreau 221 

XVIII.  ViOLANTE  Camporese 228 

'       XIX.    ROSAMUNDA   PiSARONI 238 

/'  XX.  Giuditta  Pasta 246 

XXI.  Catharine  Stephens 267 

XXII.  Mary  Anne  Paton 274 

XXIII.    WlLHELMINA   SCHRODER   DeVRIENT 283 

/    XXIV.  Henrietta  Sontag 296 

XXV.  Julie  Dorus  Gras 313 

XXVI.  Cornelie  Falcon 323 

/  XXVII.  Maria  Felicita  Malibran 330 

SfXVIII.  Giulia  Grisi 363 

XXIX.  Clara  Anastasia  Novello 383 

XXX.  Pauline  Viardot  Garcia 393 


IV  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTEE  PACB 

XXXI.  Fannt  Persiani 413 

XXXII.  Cathaeine  Hayes 423 

(_XXXIII.  Marietta  Alboni 43'J 

XXXIV.  Angiolina  Bosio 451 

XXXV.  Jenny  Lind  Goldschmidt 4G1 

^XXXVI.  Sophie  Crdvelli 483 

A^XXVII.  Marietta  Piccolomini 493 

XXXVIII.  Louisa  Ptne 502 

XXXIX.  Teresa  Tietjens 507 

Chronological  List  of  Operas 515 

Index 541 


PORTRAITS. 


PAGE 

Mrs.  Billington 152 

Madame  Pasta 247 

Madame  Sontag 297 

Madame  Garcia  Malibran 331 

Madame  Giulia  Grisi 362 

Madame  Clara  Novello 382 

Madame  Viardot  Garcia 399 

Madame  Marietta  Albom 438 

Madame  Lind  Goldsciimidt 4G0 

Madame  Marietta  Piccolomini 492 


•  ^ 


& 


OPERA   IN  NEW   YOkK. 


INTKODUCTION. 


The  following  work  is  addressed  less  to  those  who  make 
the  art  and  science  of  Music  the  subject  of  systematic  study 
— though  even  to  them  it  may  perhaps  prove  acceptable — 
than  to  the  increasing  number  of  persons  who  regard  mu- 
sic as  an  elegant  accomplishment,  cnteriup'  largely  into  the 
enjoyments  of  refined  and  cultivated  s-  .y,  and  who  are 
interested  in  the  fame  and  fortunes  of  it  lost  favorite  and 
fascinating  interpreters. 

Love  of  an  art  creates  love  of  the  artist.  We  can  not  be 
moved,  excited,  transported  by  the  poetry  of  Shakspeare, 
and  yet  take  no  interest  in  himself.  We  desire  to  know 
all  about  him  that  can  be  known,  and  eagerly  receive  every 
scrap  of  information  that  can  be  gathered  as  to  the  life  and 
fortunes,  the  character,  habits,  manners,  and  domestic  rela- 
tions of  the  man  whose  writings  we  so  dearly  cherish. 

Akin  to  the  interest  we  take  in  the  great  dramatic  poet 
is  that  which  we  take  in  the  great  dramatic  musician.  We 
feel  for  a  Mozart  as  we  do  for  a  Shakspeare.  And  not  less 
lively  is  our  personal  sympathy  with  the  professors  of  that 
beautiful  art  which  interprets  and  embellishes — which  real- 
izes and  brings  before  our  senses — the  grand  and  beautiful 
conceptions  of  the  dramatic  poet  and  composer. 

The  biography  of  the  actor  has  a  great  and  peculiar  at- 
traction of  its  own.  The  actor  is  pre-eminently  "  the  ab- 
stract and  brief  chronicle  of  the  time."  The  narrative  of 
his  career  throws  light  not  only  on  his  own  life  and  char- 
acter, but  on  the  life  and  character  of  the  society  in  which 


VIU  INTRODUCTION. 

he  moves,  and  the  age  to  which  he  belongs.  And  this 
seems  to  be  most  especially  the  case  with  the  female  mem- 
bers of  the  theatrical  profession,  particularly  if  the  lyrical 
stage  is  that  on  which  they  have  flourished.  A  great  act- 
ress stands  more  prominently  in  the  world's  eye,  has  a  great- 
er influence  on  manners,  and  reflects  more  strongly  the  pre- 
vailing hues  of  society,  than  an  actor  can  do ;  and  of  the 
great  actresses  who  have  adorned  the  stage  since  its  revival 
in  modern  Europe,  the  larger  number  have  also  been  great 
singers. 

This  consideration  has  induced  the  author  to  take,  for 
the  subjects  of  the  following  biographical  sketches,  a  select 
number  of  the  "  Queens  of  Song"  who  have  shed  lustre 
on  the  musical  stage  of  Italy,  France,  Germany,  and  En- 
gland. 

It  was  in  Italy  that  Opera  came  into  being ;  from  thence 
she  traveled,  first  into  France,  next  into  England,  and  lastly 
into  Germany,  where,  notwithstanding  her  present  magni- 
tude, her  existence  is  but  of  yesterday.  Go  back  only  to 
the  days  of  Gliick,  and  we  find  that,  though  there  was  opera 
in  Germany,  there  was  no  German  opera.  To  him,  and  to 
his  still  greater  successor,  Mozart,  the  Germans  are  indebted 
for  the  very  creation  of  their  own  musical  drama. 

It  is  only  in  those  four  countries  that  a  national  opera 
can  be  said  to  exist.  In  each  of  them  the  musical  stage  has 
acquired  distinctive  peculiarities,  but  in  all  of  them  it  re- 
tains the  principal  features  which  it  has  derived  from  Italy, 
the  land  of  its  birth.  Composers  and  performers  have  been 
natives  of  other  countries — Spain,  Eussia,  Sweden,  or  Den- 
mark ;  but  they  have  all  been  formed  chiefly  on  the  school 
of  Italy,  and,  in  some  degree,  on  those  of  France  and  Ger- 
many. As  to  England,  she  is  beginning  to  have  a  school ; 
but  beyond  our  own  shores  English  Opera  has  no  influence. 

To  write  a  series  of  memoirs  of  the  great  female  opera 
singers  would  be  almost  equivalent  to  writing  a  history  of 


INTRODUCTION.  IX 

the  Opera  itself,  and  perhaps  in  the  most  pleasant  form 
which  such  a  history  could  assume.  But  a  work  of  this 
kind,  were  it  any  thing  more  than  a  bare  and  dry  outline, 
would  necessarily  grow  to  an  impracticable  size ;  for  such 
has  been  the  European  popularity  of  the  most  captivating 
branch  of  the  drama,  that  the  number  of  female  singers, 
who  have  not  only  been  the  idols  of  the  public  in  their  own 
day,  but  have  acquired  lasting  posthumous  fame,  is  greater 
than  that  of  all  other  eminent  theatrical  performers  put  to- 
gether. For  one  Barry,  Clairon,  Siddons,  or  O'Neill,  there 
are  twenty  Maras,  Pastas,  or  Malibrans.  A  very  limited 
selection  from  their  number  was  therefore  necessary.  But 
it  has  been  thought  that  even  such  a  selection,  carefully 
made  and  arrano;ed,  mioht  embrace  a  continuous  and  co- 
herent  picture  of  the  progress  of  the  Opera,  as  well  as  of 
the  constantly  changing  aspects  of  social  life  in  the  coun- 
tries where  the  Opera  has  flourished. 

Every  "Queen  of  Song"  is  the  central  figure  in  a  group 
of  all  that  is  great,  and  noble,  and  gay — and  too  often,  un- 
happily, dissolute — in  the  societj'  in  which  she  moves.  Her 
story  is  often  of  touching  and  romantic  interest,  and  her  fate 
points  an  impressive  moral  lesson.  Gifted  with  powers  de- 
sisrned  to  deliQ;ht  the  world,  and  in  most  instances  combined 
with  personal  attractions,  that  materially  enhance  the  charms 
of  vocal  and  histrionic  efforts,  the  young  debutante,  emerg- 
ing from  the  severe  labor  of  her  musical  studies,  enters  at 
once  on  the  dazzlinsr  but  dangerous  scene  of  her  future  tri- 
umphs,  endued  with  sensibility  of  no  ordinary  kind,  refined 
by  the  cultivation  of  her  voice  and  ear,  and  often  with  the 
strong  and  wayward  impulses  of  genius.  ^ 

Her  first  success  in  a  moment  transforms  the  chrysalis 
into  the  butterfly,  destined  to  flutter  in  the  blaze  of  theat- 
rical splendors.  Fascinating  the  public,  and  gratifying  the 
intellectual  lovers  of  song,  while  her  beauty  and  powers  re- 
main in  their  full  perfection,  the  fair  and  accomplished 

A2 


INTRODUCTION. 


young  vocalist  can  not  but  captivate  many  hearts,  and  thus 
becomes  surfeited  by  the  flatteries  of  the  spoiled  children 
of  fortune,  and  lured  by  the  wiles  of  subtle  and  interested 
admirers.  The  intoxication  of  success  following  close  upon 
the  absorbing  studies,  and  the  doubts  and  fears  that  beset 
the  debutante,  must  be  a  severe  trial  to  the  sensitive  and 
ardent  young  creature,  who,  when  acknowledged  as  "  prima 
donna,"  finds  the  world  at  her  feet,  and  is  the  cynosure  of 
the  great,  the  gifted,  and  the  wealthy  of  society. 

As  the  interpreter  of  the  ideas  of  genius,  she  partakes  of 
the  triumphs  of  the  composer,  and  is  rewarded  not  only  by 
munificent  payment,  but  with  the  incense  of  popular  ap- 
plause and  the  homage  of  admirers,  never  appearing  but  to 
elicit  fresh  tokens  of  admiration. 

It  is  not  surprising,  therefore,  that  the  temptations  of  such 
a  career  should  sometimes  prove  too  great  for  virtue  or  pru- 
dence to  resist ;  indeed,  the  wonder  is  that  so  many  favor- 
ite singers  have  escaped  the  snares  and  pitfalls  that  sur- 
round their  steps.  The  descent  from  the  pinnacle  of  fame 
and  fortune  is  often  sudden  and  disastrous,  and  the  perils 
of  her  who  attains  the  giddy  height  of  popularity  are  such 
as  to  need  a  cool  head  and  a  steadfast  heart,  and  the  con- 
trolling power  of  high  principle. 

The  author  has  chosen  her  heroines  with  a  view  to  a  two- 
fold source  of  interest.  She  has  taken  those  whose  genius 
and  labors  have  stamped  the  deepest  impress  on  the  state 
of  contemporary  art,  and  some  of  those,  likewise,  who, 
though  of  secondary  artistic  name,  have  had  eventful  his- 
tories, or  from  whose  fortunes,  in  their  brilliant  and  most 
perilous  career,  an  instructive  moral  may  be  gathered. 
How  far  she  has  succeeded  it  will  remain  for  others  to 
judge. 

She  has  been  careful  to  draw  her  facts  from  the  most 
trustworthy  sources ;  from  the  most  eminent  historians  of 
music  and  musical  biographers ;  from  contemporary  me- 


INTEODUCTION.  XI 


moirs  and  works  on  other  subjects,  in  which  the  Opera  and 
its  celebrities  are  incidentally  spoken  of;  and  (in  the  latter 
portion  of  the  work)  from  the  information  kindly  furnished 
to  her  from  several  "  Queens  of  Song,"  w^ho  are  the  bright- 
est ornaments  of  the  present  musical  stage.  The  dates  have 
been  (from  about  1750)  verified  from  the  public  journals  of 
England,  France,  and  Germany. 

It  will  be  observed  that,  in  regard  to  the  heroines  of  past 
generations,  she  has,  in  describing  their  persons,  manners, 
and  the  peculiar  features  of  their  vocal  talents,  freely  availed 
herself  of  the  language  of  contemporary  criticism.  Actors 
and  singers  are  not  like  poets  and  painters ;  they  leave  no 
works  behind  them  from  which  we  can  form  our  own  esti- 
mate of  their  character.  We  know  nothing  but  what  is 
told  us  by  their  contemporaries ;  and  the  author  has  thought 
it  better  to  choose  those  contemporaries  carefully,  and  to 
quote  their  own  lively  and  graphic  descriptions  (always  ac- 
knowledging the  source  from  which  they  are  drawn)  than 
to  translate  them,  as  it  were,  into  what  would  necessarily 
have  been  feebler  and  less  picturesque  words  of  her  own. 

She  takes  this  opportunity  of  again  tendering  thanks  to 
those  friends  in  both  London  and  Paris  who  have  given  her 
so  much  valuable  assistance,  and  to  whom  she  feels  deeply 
indebted ;  also  of  acknowledging  the  courtesy  of  those  gen- 
tlemen to  whom  she  has,  from  time  to  time,  been  obliged  to 
apply  for  special  information. 


LIST  OF  AUTHORITIES. 


The  following  are  the  principal  Works  from  which  the 
materials  for  the  "  Queens  of  Song"  have  been  drawn: 

M.  Clement  et  l'aebe  Joseph  de  la  Porte — Annales  Dramatiques. 

Bachacmont — Memoires  Secrets. 

Jonx  Beenaed — Retrospection  of  the  Stage. 

IIenei  Beyle — Vie  de  Rossini. 

Castil  Blaze — L'Acade'mie  Impe'riale  de  Musique. 

Charles  de  EoiCne — Petits  Memoires  de  I'Ope'ra. 

Dr.  Burnet — General  History  of  Music :  Present  State  of  Music  in  Ger- 
many, the  Netherlands,  etc.  (1773):  Present  State  of  Music  in  France 
and  Italy  (1773):  Account  of  the  Musical  Performances  in  Westmin- 
ster Abbey  and  the  Pantheon. 

Thomas  Busbt — General  History  of  Music:  Concert-room  and  Orchestra. 

H.  F.  Chorley — Music  and  Manners  in  France  and  Germany:  Modern 
German  Music,  Recollections,  and  Criticism :  Thirty  Years'  Musical 
Recollections. 

CnoRON  ET  Fay'olle — Dictionnaire  historique  des  Musiciens. 

Crosse — Account  of  the  Grand  ^Musical  Festival  held  in  1823  in  York. 

Charles  Dibdin — Complete  History  of  the  English  Stage. 

Ebers — Seven  Years  of  the  King's  Theatre. 

Escudier  Freres — Etudes  Biographiqucs  sur  les  Chantcurs  Contempo- 
rains. 

Fetis — Biographic  dcs  Musiciens. 

Galerie  The'atrale. 

Grimm — Correspondence. 

Hawkins — General  History  of  Music. 

Charles  Hervey' — Theatres  of  Paris. 

George  Hogarth — Memoirs  of  the  Musical  Drama :  Musical  History,  Bi- 
ography, and  Criticism. 

Arsene  Houssaye — Galerie  de  Portraits. 

Michael  Kelly — Reminiscences. 

Earl  of  Malmesbury — Diaries  and  Correspondence. 

Memoires  de  Marmontcl. 


XIV  LIST   OF   AUTHORITIES. 

Mc'moires  Secrets — 1777. 

Countess  de  Merlin — Memoirs  of  Madame  Malibran. 

MiCHAUD — Biographie  Universelle. 

Eugene  de  Mirecoukt — Les  Contemporains. 

Lord  Motojt  EDGEcmiEE — Musical  Eeminiscences  of  an  old  Amateur. 

Durey  de  Noinville — Histoire  de  I'Academie  Koyale  de  Musique  en 

France — 1757. 
J.  Nathan — Memoirs  of  Madame  Malibran  de  Beriot. 
Roger  North — Memoirs  of  Musick. 

W.  OxBERRY — Dramatic  Biography  and  Histrionic  Anecdotes. 
W.  J.  Parke — Musical  Memoirs. 
Quarterly  Musical  Magazine  and  Review. 
Victor  Schoelcher — Life  of  Handel. 
ScuDo  —  L'Anne'e  musicale  —  Critique  et  litterature  musicales  —  Musique 

Ancienne  ct  Moderne. 
Arthuk  StMPSON — Memoirs  of  Madame  Catalani. 
Veron — Me'moires  d'un  Bourgeois  de  Paris. 
Walpole — Private  Correspondence. 
M.  F.  Young — Memoirs  of  Mrs.  Crouch. 

Etc.,  etc.,  etc. 


QUEENS   OF  SONG. 


*  CHAPTER  I. 

KATHEEINE  TOFTS   AND   MARGARITA  DE   l'ePIXE. 

We  class  these  two  ladies  together,  because  they  were  the 
earliest  "Queens  of  Song"  who  reigned  in  England;  were  con- 
temporaries, and  much  connected  in  their  career  on  the  musical 
staire.  It  Avas  but  a  little  befoi-e  their  time  that  actresses  be- 
gan  to  make  their  appearance,  female  characters  of  every  kind 
having  been  personated  by  men.  Before  their  time  English 
Opera  gave  no  employment  to  great  singers.  Even  the  operas 
of  Purcell  were  little  more  than  plays  intermixed  with  music, 
consisting  of  occasional  choruses  and  songs,  and  in  which  the 
actors  of  the  drama  took  no  part.  It  was  only  when  the  Ital- 
ian opera  came  to  be  introduced  in  England,  and  to  be  imita- 
ted by  English  composers,  that  eminent  dramatic  singers  be- 
gan to  appear,  and  among  these  the  first  females  were  Mrs. 
Tofts  and  Madame  de  I'Epine. 

Of  the  family  or  early  career  of  Katherine  Tofts  little  is 
known.  Her  name  is  first  mentioned,  we  believe,  as  singing 
English  and  Italian  songs  at  the  theatre  in  Lincoln's  Inn  Fields 
in  the  year  1*703.  Two  years  afterward  she  made  her  debut  on 
the  stage  in  the  opera  o^  Arslnoe,  Queen  of  Ci/jyrus,  composed, 
in  imitation  of  the  Italian  style,  by  Thomas  Clayton,  a  man  who 
acquired  groat  but  umnerited  celebrity.  He  Avas  a  member  of 
King  William's  band,  and,  albeit  of  extremely  limited  capabili- 
ties, entertained  a  very  exalted  opinion  of  his  own  talents.  Go- 
ing to  Italy,  he  there  heard  operas,  and  by  dint  of  begging, 
borrowing,  and  stealing,  possessed  himself  of  a  quantity  of 
songs.  With  these  he  returned  in  triumph,  and  thoroughly 
convinced  that  nothing  was  easier  than  the  composition  of  an 
opera,  he  produced  the  opera  of  Arsinoe,  Quee?i  of  Oyprus^ 


16  QUEENS    OF   SOXG. 

composed  by  Stanzani  of  Bologna.  Travestying  tliis,  he  strung 
together  recitatives  and  melodies  after  a  fashion  of  his  own, 
which  aiForded  him  infinite  satisfaction.  He  was  assisted  by 
Sio-nor  Nicolo  Ilayra  and  Mr.  Charles  Dieupart,  both  tolerable 
musicians  and  flir  superior  to  himself,  but  deficient  in  that  im- 
pudence which  was  his  leading  characteristic.  Haym  translat- 
ed Motteux's  words,  and  Dieupart  superintended  the  instru- 
mentation. 

His  opera  ready,  Clayton's  next  care  was  to  find  a  theatre 
and  singers.  Drury  Lane  was  disengaged ;  and  Mrs.  Tofts 
was  engaged  as  prima  donna,  together  with  Mrs.  CrossfMrs. 
Lindsay,  Mrs.  Butler,  Mrs.  Turner,  Ramondon,  Hughes,  Lev- 
eridge,  and  Cook,  all  good  singers.  A  subscription  list  was 
opened  for  the  pit  and  boxes,  and  Arsinoe  was  announced  iu 
the  Dally  Courant  as  "  a  new  opera,  after  the  Italian  manner, 
all  sung,  being  set  by  Master  Clayton,  with  dances  and  sing- 
ing before  and  after  the  opera  by  Siguora  F.  Margarita  de 
I'Epine." 

A  more  captivating  or  talented  prima  donna  could  not  have 
been  found,  even  in  Italy,  than  Katherine  Tofts.  Of  the  beau- 
ty of  her  "  fine  proportioned  figure"  Colley  Cibber  speaks  with 
admiration.  Her  voice — a  soprano — was  clear  and  flexible; 
its  natural  qualities  had  been  cultivated  by  study ;  and,  in  ad- 
dition to  an  "  exquisitely  sweet,  silver  tone,"  she  had  a  "  pecul- 
iar, rapid  swiftness  of  the  throat;"  pei'fections  which,  as  Cibber 
justly  remarks,  are  "  not  to  be  imitated  by  art  or  labor." 

Signora  Francesca  Margarita  de  I'Epine,  a  native  of  Tus- 
cany, was  a  woman  of  quite  a  different  type  to  the  fair  En- 
glishwoman. Very  ugly,  singularly  tall,  swarthy,  rough,  and 
brusque  in  manner,  she  must  have  had  an  unusually  fine  voice 
to  have  been  enabled  to  retain  her  hold  of  public  favor.  Thir- 
teen years  previously,  in  1691,  she  had  come  over  with  Giaco- 
mo  Greber,  a  German,  her  teacher,  and  had  made  her  first  ap- 
pearance at  the  concerts  at  York  Buildings.  She  appeared  in 
the  musical  piece  of  the  Hived  Queens  at  Lincoln's  Inn  Fields, 
June  1st,  1092,  when  it  was  advertised  as  her  last  appearance 
in  England ;  but  she  was  so  successful  that "  she  continued," 
Burney  remarks, "  to  sing  more  last  and  positively  last  times 
during  the  month,"  and  never  quitted  England  at  all.  She  be- 
came a  special  favorite  with  her  audiences,  being  a  fine  singer 
and  a  scientific  performer  on  the  harpsichord ;  but  she  did  not 


KATHERIXE   TOFTS — MAKGAEITA   DE   l'ePINE.  17 

escape  invidious  criticism  in  her  private  character.  She  was 
perfectly  respectable,  yet  her  friendship  for  her  master  drew  on 
her  the  insulting  appellation  of"  GrelDer's  Peg."  Her  appear- 
ance, one  would  have  imagined,  had  sufficed  both  to  drive  away 
lovers  and  to  disarm  scandal ;  yet  she  Avas  surrounded  by  those 
who  admired  and  those  who  ridiculed.  She  even  contrived  to 
enchant  Daniel,  Earl  of  Nottingham,  who  threw  himself  at  her 
feet,  and  braved  the  laughter  of  the  fashionable,  political,  and 
literary  world.  Rowe  indited  some  verses  on  the  subject,  in 
imitation  of  an  ode  of  Horace,  "Ne  sit  ancilloe  tibi  amor  pudo- 
ri."    ^hey  ran  thus : 

"  Did  not  base  Greber's  Peg  inflame 
The  sober  Earl  of  Nottingham, 

Of  sober  sire  descended, 
That,  careless  of  iiis  soul  and  fame, 
To  plaj'honses  he  nightly  came, 
And  left  church  undefended  ?" 

Lord  Plalifax,  too,  wrote  a  stinging  epigram  on  the  subject 
of  the  "  tawny  Tuscan"  and  "  tall  Xottiugham,"  which  is  given 
by  Hawkins.  However,  the  earl  was  too  much  infatuated  to 
be  conscious  of  the  arrows  aimed  at  him ;  and  Margarita,  from 
whose  gay  temper  sarcasms  glanced  like  bullets  from  the  hide 
of  a  rhinoceros,  went  on  her  way  smilingly  and  unconcernedly. 
Her  sister,  Maria  Margherita  Gallia,  a  pupil  of  Nicolo  Haym's, 
probably  allured  by  the  success  of  Margarita,  arrived  in  Lon- 
don in  1V03,  when  she  made  her  debut  at  the  theatre  in  Lin- 
coln's Lm  Fields  as  a  singer ;  but  she  did  not  create  any  sen- 
sation, her  star  being  completely  extinguished  in  the  blaze  of 
Margarita's  liime. 

Margarita  Avas  not  offered  any  part  in  Clayton's  opera,  be- 
ing unable  to  pronounce  English,  but  she  agreed  to  sing  Ital- 
ian airs  before  and  after  it ;  indeed,  slic  was  more  fitted  for  the 
concert-room  than  the  stage.  There  was  not  much  love  lost 
between  Iter  and  Katherine  Tofts.  Mrs.  Tofts  used  to  sing  at 
the  "  sxibscription  music,"  like  Margarita,  singing  Italian  and 
English  songs  alternately.  But  there  was  no  open  rupture  till 
the  end  of  January,  1 704,  Avhen  Margarita  appeared  for  the 
(irst  time  at  Drury  Lane,  Avhere  Mrs.  Tofts  was  singing.  The 
"Itahan  lady,"  as'  she  was  called,  sang  first  on  the  29th,  and 
was  received  with  such  delight  as  to  annoy  her  Anglican  ri- 
val ;  for,  the  next  week,  Mrs.  Tofts's  maid,  being  in  the  house, 
2 


18  QUEENS   OF   SONG. 

got  up  a  (listui'bance  while  Margarita  was  singing.  Ill-natured 
people  hinted  that  Mrs.  Tofts  had  sent  persons  into  the  theatre 
to  occasion  the  uproar,  with  the  view  of  disconcerting  her  ri- 
val ;  an  aspersion  which,  whether  true  or  false,  hurt  the  feel- 
ings of  that  lady  to  such  an  extent  that  she  caused  the  follow- 
ing paragraph  to  be  inserted  in  the  Daily  Courant  of  February 
8th :  "  Ann  Barwick  having  occasioned  a  disturbance  at  the 
Theatre  Royal,  Drury  Lane,  on  Saturday  night  last,  the  5th  of 
February,  and  being  taken  into  custody,  Mrs.  Tofts,  in  vindica- 
tion of  her  innocency,  sent  a  letter  to  Mr.  Rich,  master  of  the 
said  theatre,  which  is  as  followeth  :  '  Sir, — I  was  very  much 
surprised  when  I  was  informed  that  Ann  Barwick,  who  Avas 
lately  my  servant,  had  committed  a  rudeness  last  night  at  the 
playhouse,  by  throwing  of  oranges  and  hissing  when  Mrs. 
L'Epine,  the  Italian  gentlewoman,  sung.  I  hope  no  one  will 
think  it  was  with  my  privity,  as  I  assure  you  it  was  not.  I 
abhor  such  practices ;  and  I  hope  you  will  cause  her  to  be 
prosecuted,  that  she  may  be  punished  as  she  deserves.  I  am, 
sir,  your  humble  servant,  Kathekine  Tofts.  Christopher 
Rich,  Esq.'  " 

This  musical  rivalry,  a  novelty  in  England,  gave  rise  to  many 
"  squibs,"  and  afforded  subject-matter  for  laughter  and  gossip 
in  coffee-houses,  drawing-rooms,  and  supper-saloons.  Hughes, 
that  "  agreeable  poet,"  who  wrote  the  Siege  of  Damascus^  and 
who  alternately  paid  his  devoirs  to  the  Muses  and  to  the  au- 
thorities in  the  Ordnance  Office,  wrote  of  the  two  songstresses 
in  the  following  strain  : 

"  Music  has  learned  the  discords  of  the  state, 
And  concerts  jar  with  Whig  and  Tory  hate. 
Here  Somerset  and  Devonshire  attend 
The  British  Tofts,  and  every  note  commend ; 
To  native  merit  just,  and  pleased  to  see 
We've  Koman  hearts,  from  Roman  bondage  free. 
There  famed  L'Ejnne  does  equal  slcill  employ, 
While  listening  peers  crowd  to  the  ecstatic  joy: 
Bedford  to  hear  her  song  his  dice  forsakes, 
And  Nottingham's  enraptured  when  she  shakes ; 
Lull'd  statesmen  melt  away  tlieir  drowsy  cares  /" 

Of  England's  safety  in  Italian  airs."  ~ 

But  to  return  to  Arsinoe,  Queen  of  Cypj'us.  Clayton  was 
perfectly  well  assured  that  he  was  about  to  work  a  complete 
reformation  in  English  musical  taste,  and  the  highest  expecta- 


KATHEEINE   TOFTS — ilAKGAEITA    DE   l'ePIXE.  19 

tions  were  indulged  iu  by  his  excited  patrons.  Nicolo  Haym 
played  the  principal  violoncello,  to  Avhich  instrument  several 
of  the  symphonies  and  leading  accompaniments  were  assigned, 
and  Charles  Dieupart  the  first  violin.  It  was  on  the  16th  of 
January,  1705,  that  the  piece  was  brought  out;  and  a  more 
vile  performance,  if  the  testimony  of  the  most  able  musical  crit- 
ics may  be  trusted,  could  not  have  been  presented  to  any  audi- 
ence. "  The  music,  as  well  as  the  words,  of  this  j^iece  were 
utterly  contemptible.  It  is  a  worthless  production,"  ejacu- 
lated Dr.  Burney.  "  The  translation  and  music  to  which  it 
was  set  are  execrable,"  growls  Hawkins.  Notwithstanding 
its  defects,  "  such  is  the  charm  of  novelty,"  chorus  the  two 
great  authorities,  "  that  this  miserable  performance,  deserving 
neither  the  name  of  a  drama  by  its  ^^oetry,  nor  of  an  opera  by 
its  mnsic,"  ran  twenty-four  nights  triumphantly.  "The  En- 
glish," says  Burney,  "must  have  hungered  and  thirsted  ex- 
tremely after  dramatic  music  at  this  time  to  be  attracted  and 
amused  by  such  trash." 

It  was  probably  this  unparalleled  success  which  induced  Gre- 
ber  to  produce,  the  next  year,  a  musical  entertainment  com- 
posed by  himself,  called  the  Loves  of  Ergasto^hwt  which  the 
public  chose  to  entitle  "  Greber's  Pastoral."  Margarita,  of 
course,  sang  in  this  work,  which  was  selected  to  inaugurate 
the  opening  night  of  the  theatre  in  the  Ilaymarket,  a  superb 
edifice  just  completed  by  Sir  John  Vanbrugh  and  Congreve. 
Both  the  entertainment  and  the  house  were  dead  failures ;  for 
the  "  vanity  of  vast  columns,  gilded  cornices,  and  immoderate- 
ly high  roof"  having  been  allowed  to  militate  against  the  first 
requirement  of  an  operatic  theatre — the  power  of  conveying 
sound — the  music,  instead  of  reaching  the  ears  of  the  audience, 
was  carried  off  to  the  ceiling,  Avhence  it  reverberated  in  indis- 
tinct echoes.  The  Pastoral,  despite  its  ill  success,  was  follow- 
ed by  another  of  the  same  kind,  the  Temple  of  Love,  composed 
by  Signor  Saggioni,  a  Venetian,  which  pleased  as  little  as  its 
predecessor ;  and  the  result  was  that  the  theatre  failed  the 
very  first  season.  Betterton  and  his  company,  who  had  placed 
themselves  without  reserve  under  the  banner  of  Vanbrugh  and 
Congreve,  then  returned  to  Lincoln's  Inn  Fields;  Sir  John 
gave  up  the  reins  of  his  musical  stud  to  Owen  MacSwiney,  a 
knowing  Irishman,  and  the  speculation  might  be  fairly  consid- 
ered to  have  come  to  grief. 


20  QUEENS    OF   SONG. 

Margarita  transferred  her  services  readily  to  Owen  MacSwi- 
ney — denominated  by  Dibdin  "  a  sliuttle-cock" — wlio,  in  part- 
nership with  Collier,  was  about  to  produce  a  second  opera  at 
Drury  Lane,  entitled  Camilla  ;  the  music  of  which,  arranged 
by  Haym,  was  chiefly  borrowed  from  Marc  Antonio  Bonon- 
cini,  brother  of  the  celebrated  Giovanni  Bononcini,  and  the 
words  were  by  Silvio  Stampiglia.  The  Opera  having  now  be- 
gun to  be  an  established  fact  in  London,  several  Italian  singers 
had  come  over  "  on  speculation ;"  among  others,  Cavalier  Val- 
entini  Urbani,  and  a  lady  called  mysteriously  "  The  Baroness." 
Valentini,  a  scholar  of  Pistocchi,  though  he  had  a  pure  and  ele- 
gant style,  was  by  no  means  a  great  singer,  for  his  voice  was 
feeble  and  his  execution  moderate ;  but  he  was  a  good  actor, 
and  popular  in  his  manner.  Of  the  Baroness  but  little  is  known ; 
even  her  name  is  an  enigma  not  to  be  solved.  Burney,  while 
declaring  himself  "by  no  means  qualified  to  be  her  biographer," 
says  that  she  was  a  German  who  had  learned  to  sing  in  Italy, 
and  had  performed  in  the  opera  at  several  German  courts  un- 
der her  unusual  appellation  before  her  arrival  in  England. 
Some  people  said  she  was  the  widow  of  the  ill-fated  Stradella; 
but  Hawkins  shows  that  this  was  an  improbability. 

On  the  4th  of  March  Camilla  was  produced.  The  absurdity 
of  the  manner  in  which  it  was  performed  provoked  much  laugh- 
ter, for  one  half  was  sung  in  Italian,  the  other  half  in  English. 
Valentini,  Margarita,  and  the  Baroness  were  unable  to  sing  in 
any  language  but  their  own ;  while  Katherine  Tofts,  Mrs.  Lind- 
say, and  the  other  English  singers,  even  while  professing  to  sing 
Italian  sonss,  did  not  like  to  venture  too  far  out  of  their  native 
tongue.  Mrs.  Tofts's  beauty  and  Margarita's  singing,  howev- 
er, insured  for  the  piece  a  splendid  success.  Mrs.  Tofts  more 
especially,  by  her  grace,  her  fine  voice,  and  her  acting,  achieved 
her  greatest  triumph  as  "  Camilla."  There  is  a  pleasant  allu- 
sion to  it  in  the  Spectator^  in  the  form  of  a  letter  from  the  act- 
or who  personated  the  wild  boar  slain  by  the  Amazonian  he- 
roine, in  Avhich  he  apologizes  for  having  acted  with  a  certain 
amount  of  tamcness.  "As  for  the  little  resistance  which  I 
made,"  he  says,  "  I  hope  it  may  be  excused  when  it  is  consid- 
ered that  the  dart  was  thrown  at  me  by  so  fair  a  hand.  I 
must  confess  I  had  but  just  put  on  my  brutality ;  and  Ca- 
milla's charms  were  such,  that,  beholding  her  erect  mien,  hear- 
ing her  charming  voice,  and  astonished  with  her  graceful  mo- 


KATHEKIXE   TOFTS — MARGARITA   DE   l'ePIXE.  21 

tion,  I  could  not  keep  up  to  my  assumed  fierceness,  but  died 
like  a  man."  The  success  of  the  performance  may  be  judged 
from  the  fact  that  in  the  course  of  four  years  it  was  represent- 
ed sixty-four  times. 

Camilla  was  so  great  a  success,  having  met  with  a  reception 
in  England  that  it  had  never  experienced  abroad,  that  Addison, 
who  seems  to  have  been  no  judge  of  musical  ability,  and  who 
thought  that  Clayton  was  an  admirable  composer,  was  induced 
to  write  the  libretto  of  an  opera.  Adopting  the  romantic  story 
of  Fair  Rosamond  as  a  groundwork  for  his  plot,  he  raised  there- 
on a  poetical  superstructure.  The  public,  admiring  Addison, 
anticipated  much  from  this  opera.     It  was  cast  thus : 

Queen  Eleanor Mrs.  Tofts. 

Page  (usually  called  the  boy) Mr.  Holcombe. 

Sir  Trusty  (keeper  of  the  bower) Mr.  Leveridge. 

Grideline  (his  wife) Mrs.  Lindsay. 

Eosamond Signora  Maria  Gallia. 

King'Henry Mr.  Hughes. 

First  Guardian  Angel Mr.  Lawrence. 

Second  Guardian  Angel Miss  Reading. 

But  it  was  full  of  absurdities  and  anachronisms.  As  a  poem 
it  was  graceful  and  lively ;  as  a  drama,  flat,  tame,  and  unsuited 
for  the  stage.  "The  verses  of  Hosamo^id,''*  observes  Dr.  Bur- 
ney,  "  are  highly  polished,  and  more  lyrical,  perhaps,  than  in 
any  poem  of  the  same  kind  in  our  language."  The  music  was 
"below  contempt."  Hawkins  dismisses  it  in  a  few  words: 
"  A  criticism  on  this  most  wretched  performance,"  he  remarks, 
"  is  more  than  it  deserves ;  but,  to  account  for  the  bad  recep- 
tion it  met  with,  it  is  necessary  to  mention  that  the  music, 
preponderating  against  the  elegance  and  humor  of  the  poetry 
and  the  reputation  of  its  author,  bore  it  down  the  third  night 
of  representation."  As  to  the  songs,  "  they  have  neither  air 
nor  expression."     There  is  one  line  which  runs  thus — 

"  Oh,  the  pleasing,  pleasing,  pleasing,  pleasing,  pleasing  anguish." 

A  critic  of  the  period,  who  was  present  at  the  performance, 
says  that  the  opera  was  "a  confused  chaos  of  music,"  and  that 
"  its  only  merit  Avas  its  shortness." 

The  failure  of  his  work  gave  Addison  such  a  disgust  for  the 
opera,  that  ever  after  he  did  his  best  to  ridicule  and  sneer  it 
out  of  fashion,  and  never  let  an  opportunity  escape  of  flinging 
a  jeer  at  the  opera  performances. 


22  QUEENS    OF   SONG. 

Bosamond  was  succeeded  by  Thomyris^  Queen  of  Scythia, 
the  music  selected  from  the  comiDOsitions  of  Alessandro  Scar- 
latti and  Bononcini ;  the  recitatives  and  accompaniments  Avere 
committed  to  the  care  of  Mr.,  afterward  Dr.  Pepusch,  one  of 
the  greatest  musical  celebrities  of  the  time.  The  libretto  was 
written  by  Motteux,  a  man  who,  says  Hawkins,  kept  an  "India 
shop"  in  Leadenhall  Street,  which  was  much  frequented  by  the 
old  Duchess  of  Marlborough  and  other  ladies  of  Queen  Anne's 
day,  Mrs.  Tofts  and  Margarita  both  appeared  in  this  opera ; 
the  latter  perfoi-med  the  part  of  the  Queen.  This  opera  was 
not  so  much  admired  as  Camilla,  but  it  was  received  M'ith  fa- 
vor. Of  the  music  Dr.  Burney  gives  some  account,  and  men- 
tions that  the  songs  of  Margarita  in  particular  contained  "sev- 
eral difficult  passages  of  execution."  Thomyris  was  succeeded 
by  a  little  piece  called  Love's  Triumph,  which  was  produced 
under  the  direction  of  Valentini,  for  his  own  benefit.  It  was 
written  by  Cardinal  Ottoboni  (the  English  words  befng  adapt- 
ed by  Motteux),  and  set  to  music  by  Carlo  Cesarini  Giovanni 
— surnamed  Del  Violone — and  Francesco  Gasparini.  Marga- 
rita filled  the  part  of  Olinda.  French  dancing,  then  a  novelty, 
was  introduced  as  an  experiment.  As  a  speculation  the  piece 
failed ;  so  Valentini  determined  for  the  future  to  confine  him- 
self to  singing,  and  never  more  play  the  ungrateful  role  of 
manager. 

The  last  opera  in  which  our  rival  Queens  of  Song  appeared 
was  Pyrrhus  and  Demetrius,  the  libretto  of  which  had  been 
written  by  Owen  MacSwiney;  the  music,  by  Adriano  Morselli, 
was  arranged  by  Nicolo  Haym.  Margarita  and  Mrs.  Tofts 
were  the  leading  ladies  in  the  piece,  which  was  brought  out  on 
the  14th  of  December,  1708;  the  Baroness,  Valentini,  and  the 
usual  troupe,  sustaining  the  minor  parts.  The  opera  was  a 
great  success,  and  continued  for  a  long  time  to  draw  crowded 
houses,  in  spite  of  the  absurdity  of  the  motley  language ;  al- 
though the  prices  were  raised,  it  was  performed  thirty  times 
in  the  course  of  the  season. 

Tlie  lovely  Katherine  Tofts  never  graced  the  stage  after- 
ward. In  the  spring,  a  terrible  misfortune  snatched  her  from 
her  admirers,  in  the  meridian  of  her  bloom  and  beauty.  Her 
brain  imexpectedly  gave  way,  and  her  friends  were  compelled 
to  place  her  under  restraint.  It  was  conjectured  that  the  un- 
paralleled success  she  had  acquired  in  the  part  of  Camilla  had 


KATHEKINE  TOFTS — MAKGAKITA  DE   l'ePINE.  23 

turned  her  head.  Every  one  regretted  the  blow  -which  took 
her  from  the  ojjcralic  world.  Steele,  however,  speaks  in  a 
very  unfeeling  manner  on  the  subject,  in  the  Tatler,  Xo.  20,  for 
Thursday,  May  26th,  1709:  "This  lady,"  he  writes,  "entered 
so  thoroughly  into  the  great  characters  she  acted,  that  when 
she  had  finished  her  part,  she  could  not  think  of  retrenching 
her  equipage,  but  would  appear  in  her  own  lodging  with  the 
same  magnificence  that  she  did  upon  the  stage.  This  great- 
ness of  soul  has  reduced  that  unhappy  princess  to  an  involun- 
tary retirement,  where  she  now  passes  her  time  amid  the  Avoods 
and  forests,  thinking  on  the  crowns  and  sceptres  she  has  lost, 
often  humming  over  in  her  solitude 

"  '  I  was  born  of  royal  race, 
Yet  must  wander  in  disgrace.' 

But,  for  fear  of  being  overheard,  and  her  quality  known,  she 

usually  sings  it  in  Italian, 

"  '  Nacqui  al  regno,  nacqui  al  trono, 
E  pur  sono 
Sventurata.'  " 

This  verse  was  from  one  of  her  songs  in  Camilla,  the  first  in 
the  opera. 

For  some  time  Mrs.  Tofts  laboi*ed  under  this  disorder ;  but 
at  last,  by  the  aid  of  judicious  treatment,  she  was  restored  to 
the  use  of  her  reason.  She  did  not  return  to  the  stage  on  her 
recovery,  having  accumulated  a  large  sum  of  money  by  her 
professional  talents ;  and  shortly  after  she  married  Mr.  Joseph 
Smith,  a  diplomatic  gentleman,  a  connoisseur  of  great  taste,  a 
collector  of  rare  books  and  prints,  and  a  patron  of  art.  Her 
husband  being  appointed  British  consul  at  Venice,  she  Avent 
with  him  thither,  Avhere  he  maintained  great  state  and  mag- 
nificence. But  poor  Katherine  did  not  long  retain  the  capa- 
bility of  enjoying  her  position,  for  her  malady  again  returning, 
she  was  obliged  to  live  sequestered  from  the  world  in  a  re- 
mote part  of  her  house,  and  content  herself  with  ranging  its 
garden,  walking  to  and  fro  in  her  fancied  royalty.  The  exact 
time  of  her  death  is  not  known ;  but  she  was  still  living  about 
the  year  1735.  Her  husband,  Mr.  Smith,  died  about  1771, 
leaving  a  large  collection  of  books,  which  was  brought  over  to 
England,  and  sold  by  auction. 

After  the  close  of  IMrs.Tofts's  career,  Margarita  retained  the 
favor  of  the  public,  though  several  younger  rivals  appeared  to 


24  QUEENS   OF   SONG. 

contest  it  with  her.  Signora  Elizabetta  Pilotti  Schiavonetti, 
Avho  performed  the  part  of  Berenice  in  Hydaspes^  Signora 
Francesca  Vaniui  Boschi,  Signora  Rosa  Piscina,  and  one  or 
two  others,  attempted  to  snatch  the  laurel  crown  from  her 
brow.  She  did  not  sing  in  Minaldo  when  Handel  arrived  in 
IVIO,  nor  did  she  sing  much  again  in  operatic  performances. 
People  were  beginning  to  find  that  the  hitherto  inimitable 
Margarita  was  growing  rococo ;  and  the  manager,  now  Mr. 
Aaron  Hill,  who  directed  both  theatres,  did  not  take  the  trouble 
to  disguise  the  harsh  fact  from  her.  She  had  a  favorite  par- 
rot, which,  when  at  home,  she  would  place  at  the  open  window 
of  her  lodging  in  Boswell  Court,  where  it  would  keej)  con- 
stantly repeating  the  first  line  of  Handel's  Julhis  CcBsar^  "Non 
e  vago  e  bello."  The  manager,  having  occasion  to  write  to 
her,  addressed  his  letter  to  "  Mdlle.  de  I'Epine,  at  the  sign  of 
the  Italian  Parrot."  Enraged  at  this  afii-ont,  she  wrote  back 
angrily,  threatening  to  resign  her  engagement;  to  which  the 
manager  insolently  replied,  that,  notwithstanding  her  merit,  he 
could  "  very  well  spare  her,  if  she  would  send  her  feathered 
pupil."  She  sang  at  the  concerts  in  York  Buildings  and  at 
Stationers'  Hall,  and  once  in  the  hall  of  the  Middle  Temple,  in 
a  musical  performance  at  the  Christmas  Revels  of  that  society. 
Swift  mentions  her  in  his  "Journal  to  Stella"  in  terms  most 
discreditable  to  him : 

'■'■Aur/ust  G,  1711.  "We  have  a  music-meeting  in  our  town 
(Windsor)  to-night.  I  went  to  the  rehearsal  of  it,  and  there 
was  Margarita  and  her  sister,  and  another  drah^  and  a  parcel 
of  fiddlers.  I  was  weary,  and  would  not  go  to  the  meeting, 
which  I  am  sorry  for,  because  I  heard  it  was  a  great  assem- 
bly." In  the  same  coarse  manner  the  dean  frequently  speaks 
of  the  "  music-meetings"  at  Windsor  in  the  course  of  this  sea- 
son, endeavoring  to  evince  his  contempt  by  such  phrases  as, 
"  In  half  an  hour  I  was  tired  of  their /we  stuff P 

In  1712  Margarita  appeared  as  Calypso,  in  Calypso  and  Te- 
lemackus,  written  by  Mr.  Hughes,  and  set  by  Mr.  Galliard ;  an 
opera  that,  from  want  of  interest  in  the  story,  and  from  being 
filled  with  a  series  of  grave  moral  sentiments — which,  as  Dr. 
Burney  remarks,  "  however  edifying  in  a  sermon  or  in  the 
closet,  are  seldom  received  with  due  reverence  in  a  place  of 
amusement" — was  represented  but  five  times.  She  also  per- 
formed in  a  revival  of  Almahide,  with  Valeriano — temporary 


KATHERIXE   TOFTS — MAKGAEITA    DE   l'ePINE.  25 

successor  to  Nicolini — Valentini,  La  Pilotti,  and  Mrs.  Barb"  2v ; 
in  the  pasticcio  of  Dorinda,  and  in  Tlieseus^  in  all  of  Avliich 
pieces  she  had  elaborate  and  difficult  airs  to  sing.  In  1714  she 
performed  with  the  new  star,  Anastasia  Robinson,  in  the  opera 
of  Creso,  during  its  nine  representations  ;  and  she  appeared  in 
JEJrnelincla,  the  part  of  Ricemero  being  taken  by  an  Italian  de- 
butante, Signora  Diana  Vico,  who  afterward  subsided  into  a 
second-class  singer. 

Having  acquired  a  fortune  of  some  ten  thousand  pounds, 
Margarita  retired  in  1V22.  She  married  Dr.  Pepusch  about 
1*723  or  1724,  when  the  money  which  she  brought  him  enabled 
him  to  pursue  with  ease  those  scientific  studies  which  he  ardent- 
ly loved,  and  also,  Barney  says,  to  "  live  in  a  stylo  of  elegance 
which,  till  his  marriage,  he  had  been  a  stranger  to."  Marga- 
rita's mother,  a  woman  as  remarkably  short  as  Margarita  was 
tall,  resided  with  them.  They  were  not  a  very  sentimental 
couple,  but  lived  together  in  harmony.  He  used  to  call  her 
Hecate,  in  allusion  to  her  ugliness ;  and  she  would  answer  to 
the  title  with  as  much  alacrity  as  if  it  had  been  Helen.  They 
had  one  child,  a  boy,  in  whose  education  the  doctor  labored 
assiduously,  in  order  to  fit  him  for  his  own  profession  ;  but  this 
child  died  in  1739,  before  reaching  the  age  of  thirteen.  They 
took  a  house  in  Fetter  Lane  in  1730,  and  in  1737,  the  doctor 
being  chosen  organist  of  the  Charter  House,  they  retired  to 
that  venerable  foundation.  Margarita's  favorite  occupation 
now  Avas  in  trying  to  master  the  difficult  pieces  in  Queen  Eliz- 
abeth's Virginal  Book,  which  she  found  in  her  husband's  libra- 
ry, and  to  such  perfection  did  she  arrive  in  playing  them,  that 
"  great  was  the  resort  of  persons  to  hear  her." 

Margarita  died  in  1740,  the  year  after  the  death  of  her  boy, 
leaving  the  worthy  doctor  to  mourn  her  loss  for  twelve  vears. 


26  QUEENS   OF   SONG. 


CHAPTER  II. 

ANASTASIA   EOBINSOX   (cOUNTESS  OF   PETEKBOEOUGh). 

One  of  the  numerous  class  of  moclei'ately  talented  persons 
wlio,  during  the  reign  of  the  "  merry  monarch,"  made  a  re- 
spectable living  by  portrait  painting,  was  a  gentleman  named 
Robinson.  Being  of  good  family,  agreeable  in  his  manners, 
and  having  a  tolerable  reputation,  he  was  popular,  and  there- 
fore was  enabled  to  live  in  very  good  style.  During  his  stu- 
dent days  he  had  traveled  to  Rome,  and  while  acquiring  a 
mastery  of  the  Italian  language  and  his  legitimate  art,  attained 
an  unusual  degree  of  skill  as  a  musical  amateur.  On  his  re- 
turn to  England  he  married  a  woman  of  some  fortune,  by  whom 
he  had  two  daughters,  Anastasia  and  Margaret.  These  girls 
were  still  infants  when  their  mother  died  ;  and  deeming  it  nec- 
essary to  give  them  some  maternal  guidance,  Mr.  Robinson 
married  a  young  Roman  Catholic  lady  of  the  name  of  Lane, 
by  whom  he  had  a  son  and  a  third  daughter. 

Anxious  to  render  his  daughters  capable  of  occupying  dis- 
tinguished places  in  society,  Mr.  Robinson  gave  them  as  finish- 
ed an  education  as  his  means  could  command.  Observing  that 
Anastasia  had  an  ear  for  melody,  and  a  voice  which  promised 
much,  he  j)laced  her  under  the  care  of  the  eminent  Dr.  Crofts ; 
and  fancying  that  Peggy  inclined  to  painting,  he  resolved  to 
make  her  a  miniature  painter,  rather  as  an  accomplishment 
than  a  profession.  He  also  imparted  to  them  the  knowledge 
which  he  had  gained  of  Italian,  so  that  Anastasia  was  able  to 
read  with  facility  the  best  Italian  poets,  and  to  converse  in  that 
tongue  with  ease. 

An  unexpected  affliction  suddenly  blighted  all  the  hopes  and 
prospects  of  the  amiable  portrait  painter.  He  was  seized  with 
a  disorder  in  his  eyes,  which  terminated  in  tlie  total  loss  of 
siglit.  A  serious  debate  was  held  as  to  what  should  be  done 
in  this  shipwreck  of  the  fimily ;  and  as  his  wife  had  some  lit- 
tle property,  it  was  decided  to  devote  a  part  of  it  to  perfecting 
Anastasia's  musical  talents,  with  the  view  of  fitting  her  for  a 


ANASTASIA   EOBINSOX.  27 

public  singer.  Anastasia,  wlio  was  a  good  girl,  diligently  ap- 
plied herself  to  tlie  study  of  xuusio;  and  in  order  that  her  taste 
in  singing  might  approach  nearer  to  that  of  the  Italian  vocal- 
ists, she  received  lessons  from  Pietro  Giuseppe  Sandoni,  at  that 
time  a  fashionable  singing-master  residing  in  London,  and  like- 
wise from  the  "  Baroness."  Her  general  education  had  been 
superintended  with  scrupulous  care,  and  she  was  full  of  excel- 
lent qualities,  being  naturally  of  an  amiable  disposition,  prudent 
and  virtuous,  gentle  ttnd  unassuming,  cheerful  and  sensible. 

Peggy  was  not  so  easily  managed.  She  did  not  like  paint- 
ing, while  she  was  passionately  devoted  to  its  sister  art,  music ; 
and  slighting  the  studies  which  she  was  enjoined  to  pursue, 
she  declared  she  would  not  learn  any  thing  except  music.  But 
it  is  not  always  desirable  to  have  two  singers  in  a  family,  for 
it  is  sometimes  difficult  enough  to  find  engagements  for  one. 
Peggy,  however,  would  have  her  way,  and  Mr.  Robinson,  yield- 
ing reluctantly  to  her  wishes,  placed  her  under  the  care  of 
Bononcini,  and  afterward  sent  her  to  Paris,  where,  under  the 
tuition  of  Rameau,  she  attained  a  high  degree  of  proficiency. 
Two  very  serious  imj^ediments  existed  to  her  hoj^e  of  succeed- 
ing as  a  public  singer — she  was  exceedingly  small  and  unusu- 
ally shy.  Ultimately  she  married  a  military  officer.  Colonel 
Bowles,  and  her  history  abruptly  closes  with  her  wedding. 

Anastasia,  with  natural  talents  much  inferior  to  her  sister, 
had  courage  and  perseverance,  and,  though  modest,  was  not  a 
victim  to  mauvaise  honte.  She  continued  to  study ;  and  when 
pronounced  sufficiently  finished  to  make  her  debut,  appeared 
at  the  concerts  at  York  Buildings,  Avhere,  in  addition  to  sing- 
ing, she  accompanied  herself  on  the  harpsichord.  Her  success 
was  as  gi^ba^a:5~the■Tnost  sanguiifenlight  havelioped  for.  3Iild 
and  pleasing  in  her  manners,  interesting-looking,  though  by  no 
means  what  might  be  termed  "  a  beauty,"  she  became  at  once 
a  favorite.  Of  middle  stature,  a  countenance  with  great  sweet- 
ness of  expression  and  large  blue  eyes,  an  unaft'ected  and  grace- 
ful air,  her  "  appearance  bespoke  for  her  that  favor  which  she 
afterward  proved  she  merited  by  her  musical  skill."  Her 
voice  was  a  fine  soprano  at  first,  but  it  deepened  gradually 
into  a  contralto,  and  was  of  extensive  compass;  but  she  want- 
ed Peggy's  exquisitely  delicate  ear  and  discriminating  taste  to 
render  her  a  perfect  singer. 

Her  success  led  to  her  immediately  obtaining  engagements 


28  QUEENS    OF   SONG. 

to  siDg  at  various  places.  Finding  that  she  became  such  a  pet 
with  the  musical  i)ublic,  and  cncoui-aged  by  the  patronage  of 
some  ladies  of  high  rank,  her  father  took  a  house  in  Golden 
Square,  where  he  established  weekly  concerts  and  assemblies 
in  the  manner  of  conversaziones.  These  reunions  were  fre- 
quented by  a  numerous  coterie  of  persons  of  refined  taste  and 
musical  predilections,  and  it  speedily  grew  to  be  the  fashion 
to  visit  Mr.  Robinson's  rooms.  Anastasia's  modest,  unassum- 
ing manner  and  equable  temper  obtained* for  her  not  only  pub- 
lic favor,  but  the  love  and  admiration  of  many  persons  of  high 
birth.  The  Duchess  of  Portland  honored  her  with  a  lasting 
friendship,  and  spoke  subsequently  of  her  as  having  been  "per- 
fectly well-bred  and  admirably  accomplished." 

Urged  by  her  friends,  Anastasia  consented  to  accept  an  en- 
gagement to  appear  at  the  Opera  House  in  1714.  The  Opera 
was,  though  apparently  in  a  flourishing  condition,  in  reality 
ffoinir  to  ruin,  and  for  some  time  it  had  been  closed,  the  ex- 
penses  having  been  found  greatly  to  exceed  the  profits.  The 
leaders  of  the  fashionable  w^orld,  however,  had  exerted  them- 
selves to  re-establish  it,  and  a  sum  of  £30,000  being  subscribed, 
of  which  amount  the  king  contributed  £1000,  a  committee,  con- 
sisting of  the  first  noblemen  in  the  kingdom,  was  ajspointed, 
under  the  name  of  the  Royal  Academy  of  Music.  In  order  to 
resuscitate  the  opera  in  England,  they  engaged  the  three  most 
eminent  musicians  then  known,  Bononcini,  Ariosto  Attilio,  and 
George  Feedekick  Handel.  The  last  ofl:ered  to  go  in  quest 
of  a  comj^any,  and  at  Dresden  he  engaged  Senesiuo,  Beren- 
stadt,  Boschi,  and  Margherita  Dm-astanti.  Senesino  (his  real 
name  was  Francesco  Bernardo),  a  fine  singer,  with  a  clear, 
powerful,  equal,  and  fluent  voice,  and  perfect  intonation,  was 
the  leading  vocalist  of  the  day.  In  style  he  so  nearly  resem- 
bled Nicolini  that  Gibber  avers  a  blind  man  could  not  have 
known  the  difference.  In  aspect  and  deportment  he  is  de- 
scribed as  having  been  like  one  of  the  heroes  of  old,  and  his 
carriage  was  noble  and  majestic.  Berenstadt's  distinguishing 
peculiarity  consisted  in  being  "huge  and  unwieldy."  Boschi, 
the  basso,  was  chiefly  remarkable  for  a  voice  of  immense  vol- 
ume, and  a  vigorous  style  of  acting,  which  elicited  the  sarcastic 
line  in  "  Harlequin  Horace,  or,  the  Art  of  Modern  Poetry," 

"And,  Boschi-like,  be  always  in  a  rage." 
The  writer  of  that  brochure  says,  in  a  note,  that  Boschi  was  a 


ANASTASIA   EOBIXSON.  29 

"  useful  performer,  for  several  years,  in  the  Italian  Opera ;  for 
if  any  of  the  audience  chanced  unhappily  to  be  lulled  to  sleep 
by  these  soothing  entertaiments,  he  never  failed  of  rousing  them 
up  again,  and  by  the  fury  both  of  his  voice  and  action  made  it 
manifest  that,  though  only  a  tailor  by  profession,  he  "vvas  nine 
times  more  a  man  than  any  of  his  fellow-warblers."  His  wife, 
Francesca  Vanini  Boschi,  was  engaged  at  the  same  time.  She 
was  then  considerably  past  her  prime,  but  possessed  of  good 
abilities. 

Margherita  Durastanti,  a  large,  coarse,  masculine-looking 
woman,  was  a  soprano,  distinguished  not  only  by  her  musical 
talent,  but  by  the  high,  respectability  .of  her  charactei";  These 
qualities  obtainetTTor  her  favor  in  the  highest  quarters,  of 
which  we  find  afterward  a  very  convincing  proof  in  the  Even- 
ing Post  of  the  Vth  of  Mai-ch,  1721,  where  Ave  are  informed  that 
"last  Thursday  his  majesty  was  pleased  to  stand  godfather, 
and  the  princess  and  Lady  Bruce  godmothers,  to  a  daughter 
of  Mrs.  Durastanti,  chief  singer  in  the  Opera  House;  the  Mar- 
quis Visconti  for  the  king,  and  Lady  Lichfield  for  the  princess." 
She  made  her  first  appearance  in  the  opera  of  Hadajnisto,  with 
Senesino;  and  then  apjieared  in  Ar/n'ppina,  a  j^iece  which  ex- 
cited such  extravagant  admiration  that  the  most  disgraceful 
scenes  occurred  through  people  trying  to  force  their  Avay  into 
the  house.  "  Li  so  splendid  and  fashionable  an  assembly  of 
ladies,"  observes  the  anonymous  author  of  a  Z,ife  of  ITcoidel, 
"  to  the  excellence  of  their  taste  we  must  impute  it  if  there 
was  no  shadow  of  form  or  ceremony ;  scarcely,  indeed,  any  aj)- 
pearance  of  order  or  regularity,  politeness  or  decency.  Many 
who  had  forced  their  way  into  the  house  with  an  impetuosity 
but  ill  suited  to  their  rank  or  sex,  actually  fainted  through  the 
excessive  heat  and  closeness  of  it ;  several  gentlemen  were 
turned  back  who  had  oftered  forty  shillings  for  a  seat  in  the 
■gallery,  after  having  despaired  of  getting  any  in  the  pit  or 
boxes." 

As  a  coadjutor  of  Margherita  Durastanti,  but  not  as  a  rival 
— both  beincc  m\\d  and  amiable  women — Mistress  Robinson 
made  her  appearance  in  the  Opera  House.  Scarlatti's  opera 
of  JVarcissus  was  selected  for  her  debut,  when  she  achieved 
such  a  success  as  Echo  that  an  engagement  was  ratified,  with 
a  salary  of  £1000,  and  such  emoluments  as  might  arise  from 
benefits  and  presents.     From  this  time  she  appeared  in  almost 


30  QUEENS    OF   SONG. 

every  opera  tliat  Avas  newly  brought  forward :  Mutius  Scmvo- 
la,  Crisjms,  Griselda,  Otho,  Floridante,  Flavins,  Julius  -Caesar, 
Pharnaces,  Coriolanus^Ves^msiaii,  and  also  in  revivals.  On  the 
23d  of  May,  1V14,  was  produced  Handel's  opera  oi  Amadigi, 
or  Amadis  of  Gaid;  in  it  there  were  but  four  characters, 
which  were  filled  by  Nicolini,  Diana  Vico,  Elizabetta  Pilotti 
Schiavonetti,  and  Anastasia  Robinson,  The  music  given  to 
Nicolini  drew  out  all  his  powers,  both  as  a  singer  and  actor, 
and  "  Mrs.  Anastasia  Robinson,"  says  Burney,  "  never  had  so 
good  a  part  assigned  to  her." 

In  the  mean  time,  her  amiability,  talent,  and  agreeable  ap- 
pearance gained  for  the  young  vocalist  tender  regards.  Among 
the  gentlemen  who  frequented  the  house  in  Golden  Square  Avas 

a  certain  General  H ,  a  man  of  elegant  manners,  wealthy, 

and  insinuating,  who  managed  to  impress  the  fair  singer  with 
the  idea  that  he  was  honorably  paying  his  addresses  to  her, 
with  the  view  of  making  her  his  wife.  Liking  him,  and  hav- 
ing the  sanction  of  her  father  and  step-mother,  Anastasia  did 
not  repulse  his  advances,  never  dreaming  for  an  instant  that 
his  intentions  were  any  thing  but  those  Avhich  he  professed. 
What  was  her  amazement  and  indignation  Avhen,  one  day,  he 
made  a  declaration  so  insulting  that  no  alternative  was  left  her 
but  to  dismiss  him  Avith  ignominy  from  her  j^resence,  and  try 
to  drive  him  from  her  thoughts ;  "  though,"  said  the  venerable 
Mrs.  Delauy,  years  afterAvard,  "  she  Avas  very  much  prepos- 
sessed in  his  favor." 

Another  individual  Avho  more  than  ordinarily  admired  her 
was  tbe  Earl  of  Peterborough,  an  eccentric  nobleman,  eminent 
alike  for  his  military  adventures  and  his  love  of  art.  He  paid 
the  most  devoted  attention  to  her,  and  at  length  oifered  to 
marry  Ler  on  condition  of  her  keeping  the  union  a  profound 
secret,  his  pride  revolting  at  the  idea  of  its  becoming  known 
that  he  had  made  an  opera-singer  his  countess.  To  this  she 
agreed,  and  they  Avere  married.  She  remained  on  the  stage 
for  some  time ;  but  at  last  tAvo  things  hastened  her  retirement 
— the  arrival  of  a  brilliant  star,  the  celebrated  Cuzzoni,  reduc- 
ing her  to  second  and  third  rate  parts,  and  a  gross  insult  which 
she  received  from  Senesino  one  night,  during  the  public  re- 
hearsal of  an  opera,  in  1'724,  The  earl,  Avhile  obstinately  re- 
fusing to  acknoAA'ledge  her  legal  claim  on  his  protection,  instant- 
ly stepped  forward  as  her  champion,  dragged  the  offender  be- 


ANASTASIA    ROBINSO^f.  31 

hind  the  scenes,  and  there  summarily  gave  him  such  a  caning 
that  the  unhappy  dehnqueut  fell  on  his  knees  and  howled  for 
mercy. 

Lady  M.  W.  Montagu,  in  a  letter  to  the  Countess  of  Mar, 
thus  notices  the  affair — in  a  most  imwomanly  spirit,  it  must  be 
confessed.  After  mentioninsc  some  other  choice  morceaic  of 
scandal,  she  goes  on  to  say :  "  The  second  heroine  (Mrs.  Rob- 
inson) has  engaged  half  the  town  in  arms,  from  the  nicety  of 
her  virtue,  which  was  not  able  to  bear  too  near  approach  of 
Senesino  in  the  opera,  and  her  condescension  in  her  accept- 
ance of  Lord  Peterborough  for  a  champion,  who  has  signalized 
both  his  love  and  courage  upon  this  occasion  in  as  many  in- 
stances as  ever  Don  Quixote  did  for  Dulcinea.  Poor  Sene- 
sino, Hke  a  vanquished  giant,  was  forced  to  confess  ujdou  his 
knees  that  Anastasia  was  a  nonpareil  of  virtue  and  beauty. 
Lord  Stanhope  (the  celebrated  Philip  Dormer  Stanhope,  Earl 
of  Chesterfield),  as  dwarf  to  the  said  giant,  joked  on  his  side, 
and  was  challenged  for  his  pains,"  though  the  hostile  meeting 
resulted  very  harmlessly. 

Anastasia  quitted  the  stage  on  the  13th  of  June,  at  the  close 
of  the  season.  She  publicly  accepted  a  hundred  pounds  a 
month  from  her  husband,  and  was  to  be  seen  constantly  driv- 
ing about  in  his  berlin,  his  lordship  thus  allowing  her  to  rest 
under  a  stigma  which  could  have  been  removed  by  two  words 
from  his  lips. 

The  eclipse  of  the  English  singer  irritated  certain  critics, 
who  disliked  foreign  songstresses.  Carey,  in  reference  to  Cuz- 
zoni,  says  indignantly, 

"With  better  voice  and  fifty  times  her  skill, 
Poor  Robinson  is  always  treated  ill ; 
But  such  is  the  good  nature  of  the  town, 
'Tis  now  the  mode  to  cry  the  Enghsh  down." 

On  the  30th  of  October,  1*733,  Handel  opened  the  Haymar- 
ket  Theatre  with  an  entirely  new  Italian  company,  consisting 
of  Scalzi,  the  two  sisters  Negri,  Carestini,  and  Signora  Duras- 
tanti,  the  last  of  whom  reappeared  after  an  absence  often  years. 
The  signora  was  very  kindly  received,  but  after  this  season  we 
learn  no  more  of  her. 

Upon  the  death  of  Anastasia  Robinson's  father,  Lord  Peter- 
borough took  a  house  near  Fulham,  in  the  neighborhood  of  his 
own  villa  at  Parson's  Green,  where  he  settled  Anastasia  and 


32  QUEENS    OF   SONG. 

lier  step-motlier.  Soon  after,  they  removed  to  liis  villa ;  but 
liis  "  haughty  spirit"  still  ruling  paramount,  he  was  resolved 
never  to  acknowledge  a  marriage  which  he  considered  to  the 
last  dco-ree  derogatory  to  his  dignity.  Anastasia's  half-brother, 
Mr.  Lane,  came  to  reside  in  the  family  in  the  character  of  a 
Roman  Catholic  priest,  Auastasia  belonging  to  the  Church  of 
Rome.  Although  Auastasia  retained  her  maiden  name,  so 
convinced  were  her  numerous  friends  of  her  good  principles 
that  many  ladies  frequented  her  house,  persuaded  that  she  was 
the  lecral  mistress  of  the  mansion  over  which  she  presided. 
She  was  in  the  habit  of  holding  a  kind  of  musical  academy,  m 
which  Bononciui,  Martini,  Tosi,  Greene,  and  other  musical  ce- 
lebrities of  the  day  used  to  assist.  The  earl,  too,  would  give 
frequent  dinner-parties,  when  he  afforded  his  friends  the  op- 
portunity of  hearing  some  of  the  finest  music,  and  would  en- 
tertain them  with  exciting  accounts  of  his  adventures  during 
his  residence  abroad,  particularly  while  he  commanded  in  Spain. 
In  that  country,  being  often,  during  a  journey,  in  danger  of 
perishing  for  want  of  food,  and,  Avhen  he  could  get  it,  being 
frequently  obliged  to  dress  it  himself,  he  had  become  a  first- 
rate  cook ;  and  "  such  was  the  force  of  habit,"  says  Hawkins, 
"that,  till  disabled  by  age,  his  dinner  was  constantly  of  his  own 
dressino-.  Those  who  have  dined  with  him  at  Parson's  Green 
say  that  he  had  a  dress  for  the  purpose,  like  that  of  a  tavern 
cook,  and  that  he  used  to  retire  from  his  party  an  hour  before 
dinner-time,  and,  having  dispatched  his  culinary  affairs,  would 
return  properly  dressed,  and  take  his  place  among  them,"  to 
delight  them  by  his  varied  powers  of  conversation  and  the 
display  of  his  finished  taste  in  art. 

It  must  have  been  somewhat  of  a  trial,  even  to  one  of  Anas- 
tasia's amiable,  quiet  disposition,  to  be  obliged  to  endure  the 
life  she  led;  for,  independently  of  the  consciousness  of  the  mis- 
erable position  she  was  placed  in.  Lord  Peterborough  was  a 
most  uncongenial  companion  for  her.  Eccentric  and  arrogant, 
his  vagaries  kept  her  in  a  constant  flutter ;  and  it  was  only  by 
the  exercise  of  excellent  sense  and  fortitude  of  mind  that  she 
was  supported  through  "many  severe  trials  in  her  conjugal 
state."  At  length  .an  incident  occurred  which  partially  shook 
the  wall  of  pride  with  which  her  lordly  husband  surrounded 
himself.  Unexpectedly,  in  1735,  he  was  seized  with  a  terrible 
nt  of  illness  while  away  from  her ;  then,  missing  the  tender 


ANASTASIA  EOBINSON.  33 

care  of  his  wife,  lie  besought  her  to  come  and  nurse  him  at 
Mount  Bevis,  near  Southampton.  Moved  by  his  urgent  en- 
treaties, she  agreed  on  one  condition,  that  of  being  allowed  to 
wear  her  wedding-ring,  though  denied  the  privilege  of  taking 
his  name.  At  first  he  would  not  comply  with  this  reasonable 
request,  until,  finding  her  inexorable,  he  consented ;  so  she 
went.  But  the  health  of  the  earl  gradually  grew  worse,  and 
in  attending  upon  him  the  gentle  Anastasia  nearly  lost  her  life. 
At  last  the  physicians  advised  change  of  climate  for  him,  and 
he  asked  her  to  accompany  him  to  Lisbon.  This  she  positive- 
ly refused  to  do  unless  he  declared  their  marriage. 

Finding  that  all  his  pleadings  were  useless,  and  that  Anas- 
tasia's  resolution  was  final,  the  earl,  rather  than  be  deprived 
of  her  society,  gave  way.  "Without  informing  her  of  his  inten- 
tions, he  made  an  appointment  for  her  and  all  his  relations  and 
friends  to  meet  him  at  "the  apartment  over  the  gateway  of 
St.  James's  Palace,"  belonging  to  Mr.  Pointz,  who  was  married 
to  his  lordship's  niece,  and  who  was  at  that  time  preceptor  to 
Prince  William,  afterward  Duke  of  Cumberland.  When  they 
were  all  assembled,  to  their  astonishment  he  broke  forth  into 
an  eloquent  oration,  enumerating  all  the  virtues  and  perfections 
of  Mrs.  Anastasia  Robinson,  and  the  rectitude  of  her  conduct 
during  his  long  acquaintance  with  her;  he  acknowledged  his 
great  obligations  and  sincere  attachment  to  her,  declaring  that 
he  was  determined  to  do  her  that  justice  now  which  he  ought 
to  have  done  long  ago :  this  was  to  present  her  to  all  his  fam- 
ily as  his  wife.  He  spoke  with  such  energy,  and  with  so  much 
feeling,  that  Anastasia,  being  altogether  unprepared  for  such  a 
scene,  "  fainted  away  in  the  midst  of  the  comjaany,"  overcome 
by  emotion. 

Lord  Peterborough  did  not  live  to  reach  Lisbon,  for  he  died 
on  the  voyage.  After  his  death,  Anastasia,  returning  to  En- 
gland, lived  chiefly  at  Mount  Bevis,  being  seldom  prevailed  on 
to  leave  her  self-constituted  hermitage  save  by  the  Duchess  of 
Portland,  her  early  friend,  who  was  always  glad  to  have  her  at 
Bulstrode,  and,  when  unable  to  coax  her  to  come,  would  visit 
her  at  her  house.  The  countess  found  some  papers  belonging 
to  the  earl  after  his  death,  which  she  burnt,  having  too  much 
regard  for  his  memory  to  give  them  to  the  world.  Their  con- 
tents may  be  judged  of  from  the  fact  that  in  them  he  declared 
he  had  committed  "  three  capital  crimes"  before  he  was  twen- 
3 


34 


QUEENS   OF   SONG. 


ty!  By  tbis  act  she  offended  many  persons,  "curious  inquir- 
ers for  anecdotes  of  so  vemarkable  a  character  as  that  of  the 
Earl  of  Peterborough,"  who  would  have  been  rejoiced  to  seize 
on  such  morceaux  as  would  have  been  revealed  in  his  confes- 


sions. 


Anastasia  survived  her  lord  fifteen  years,  dying  in  1750,  re- 
spected and  regretted,  and  leaving  a  character  for  integrity 
and  goodness  seldom  enjoyed  by  even  the  highest  celebrities. 


LAYINIA   FENTON   (dUCHESS    OF   BOLTOX).  35 


CHAPTER  HI. 

LAviNiA  FE]srTO>r  (duchess  of  bolton). 

Amoxg  the  fashionable  coffee-houses  frequented  by  the 
beaux,  wits,  and  pretty  fellows  of  Queen  Anne's  days,  was  one 
kept  by  an  honest  man  of  the  name  of  Fenton,  He  had,  about 
1710  or  1711,  married  a  sprightly  dame  who  resided  in  the 
then  not  imgenteel  neighborhood  of  Drury  Lane,  and  who — 
as  she  failed  not  to  impress  on  those  with  whom  she  was  ac- 
quainted— was  the  widow  of  a  certain  gay  naval  officer,  Lieu- 
tenant Beswick. 

Mrs.  Fenton  had  a  little  girl,  Lavinia,  born  in  1708,  on  whom 
she  bestowed  the  surname  of  Fenton  when  she  married  the 
coffee-house  keeper.  Lavinia  was  an  unusually  lively  and  pret- 
ty child,  and  displayed  a  taste  for  singing  so  early  that  she 
could  warble  before  she  could  speak.  As  she  grew  into  child- 
hood, she  was  the  pet  and  plaything  of  the  frequenters  of  her 
step-fither's  establishment,  who  used  to  take  a  special  jjleasure 
in  teaching  her  the  fashionable  airs  just  as  they  themselves  had 
learned  them.  When  she  was  about  seven  or  eight  years  of 
age,  her  wit  began  to  rival  her  vocal  talent  and  her  beauty, 
and  many  a  laugh  was  elicited  by  her  sallies.  It  was  about 
this  time  that  "  a  comedian  belonging  to  the  Old  House,"  who 
was  in  the  habit  of  going  to  Fenton's,  took  a  fancy  to  her.  Seat- 
ing her  on  his  knee,  he  would  make  her  sing  the  catches  and 
airs  which  she  acquired  from  the  "  humming  beaux,"  and  he 
took  particular  pains  to  teach  her  various  songs,  more  esiDccial- 
ly  English  ballads. 

The  little  girl  daily  improved,  till  at  last  her  mother  thought 
it  would  be  advisable  to  send  her  to  a  boarding-school  to  fin- 
ish her  education.  She  was  therefore  packed  off  to  a  school 
for  young  ladies,  where  she  remained  till  she  was  about  thir- 
teen. When  she  returned  home,  her  voice  and  taste  had  so 
much  developed  by  this  time  that  her  mother  and  step-father 
s;ngaged  some  of  the  best  masters  in  the  English  ballad  style 


36  QUEENS   OF   SONG. 

to  instruct  her.  She  displayed  a  decided  talent  for  acting, 
and  an  invincible  inclination  for  the  stage ;  in  consequence  of 
which,  she  succeeded'  in-  obtaining  an  engagement  at  the  Hay- 
market  in  1726,  when  she  was  eighteen,  making  her  debut  as 
Monimia,  in  the  Orphan.  Her  performance  was  so  excellent 
that  she  was  immediately  regarded  as  a  very  promising  young 
actress.  She  was  possessed  of  a  fine,  melodious  voice,  a  figure 
which,  if  not  precisely  beautiful,  was  well-formed  and  elegant, 
and  a  lively  manner. 

Though  as  yet  but  obscure,  her  beauty  attracted  numerous 
young  gentlemen  and  noblemen,  and  one  young  lord  was  so 
fascinated  by  her  charms  that  he  magnanimously  oflered  to  re- 
linquish for  her  sake  the  pleasures  of  the  town,  and  retire  with 
her  to  the  solitude  of  his  villa  at  Richmond,  in  Yorkshire,  on 
any  terms  which  she  might  propose  short  of  marriage.  This 
insulting  ofiier  was  promptly  declined,  and  the  circumstance 
becoming  public,  added  to  her  reputation. 

Shortly  after,  she  appeared  in  the  chai-acter  of  Cherry,  in  the 
Beaux  Stratagem,  which  she  looked  so  admirably,  and  played 
Avith  such  archness  and  ahandon,  that  she  attracted  the  notice 
of  Rich,  the  stingy  manager  of  the  rival  theatre,  who  lured  her 
from  the  Haymarket  by  the  liberal  salary  of  fifteen  shillings  a 
week. 

About  this  time.  Swift  one  day  gossiping  with  Gay,  who 
was  then  smarting  under  the  insult  of  being  ofiered  the  j^lace 
of  gentleman  usher  to  the  youthful  Princess  Louisa,  and  look- 
ing about  for  something  to  do  instead  of  hunting  for  court  fa- 
vors, his  hojDes  of  advancement  by  court  patronage  being  gone, 
the  dean  remarked  to  him,  "What  an  odd,  pretty  sort  of  thing 
a  Newgate  Pastoral  might  make."  The  idea  appeared  to  Gay 
worthy  of  reflection,  but  after  consideration  he  thought  it 
Avould  be  better  to  write  a  comedy  on  the  same  plan.  This 
improvement  on  the  original  suggestion  he  mentioned  to  Swift, 
who  "  did  not  much  like  the  project."  Gay  carried  it  out, 
however,  and,  as  he  worked,  he  showed  it  to  Swift  and  Pope, 
who,  while  strongly  counseling  him  not  to  j^ersevere,  occasion- 
ally gave  him  a  word  of  advice.  Having,  like  Goldsmith,  a 
taste  for  music,  and  playing  Avith  tolerable  skill  on  the  flute. 
Gay  was  enabled  to  adapt  some  of  the  airs  in  his  piece  to  mu- 
sic, and  when  it  was  finished,  he  showed  it  once  more  to  Pope 
and  Swift,  under  the  title  of  The  Beggae's  Opera.     Both 


LAVrSlA  FENTON  (dUCUESS  OF  BOLTOn).         37 

critics  united  iii  deciding  tliat  "  it  would  not  succeed ;"  but, 
nothing  discouraged,  he  offered  it  to  Congreve,  the  lessee  of 
Drury  Lane,  who,  on  reading  it  over,  declined  to  risk  bringing 
it  out,  pronouncing  an  opinion  that  "it  would  either  take  great- 
ly or  be  d — d  confoundedly." 

Gay,  whose  confidence  in  the  ultimate  success  of  his  piece 
was  not  to  be  damped,  at  once  took  TJie,  Beggar's  Opera  to 
Congreve's  rival.  Rich,  who  unhesitatingly  accepted  it,  and  put 
it  in  rehearsal  without  delay.  The  part  of  Polly  Peachum, 
the  heroine,  was  given  to  Lavinia  Fenton,  and  Lucy  Lockit 
was  assigned  to  Mrs.  Egleton,  the  wife  of  a  young  actor  com- 
monly called  "Baron  Egleton."  Peachum  was  to  be  per- 
formed by  Hyppesley,  "  a  comedian  of  lively  humor  and  droll 
pleasantry ;"  Lockit,  by  John  Hall,  Avho  had  been  originally  a 
dancing-master ;  and  Mat  of  the  Mint,  by  Mr.  Spiller.  The 
part  of  Macheath  was  given  to  the  great  Mr.  Quin,  who  began 
to  study  it  with  scarcely  disguised  ill-humor  and  dissatisfac- 
tion ;  for,  although  he  could  sing  well  enough  to  get  through 
a  convivial  song  in  company — at  that  time  almost  an  indispens- 
able qualification  required  from  every  actor — yet  he  was  quite  , 
conscious  that  his  vocal  abilities  were  far  from  reaching  the 
standard  which  he  felt  requisite.  It  happened  that  among  the 
performers  at  the  theatre  was- a  young  comedian,  named  Tom 
Walker,  considered  to  be  "rather  rising"  in  the  mediocre  parts 
of  his  line,«<svho  had  a  fine  voice,  a  showy  figure,  and  a  gay, 
swao-fferiuo:  manner,  well  suited  to  the  dashing,  rollicking  char- 
actcr  of  Macheath.  Quin,  who  had  drudged  through  two  re- 
hearsals, betliought  him  that  this  was  precisely  the  individual 
who  could  perform  the  role  which  he  found  so  distasteful ;  and 
on  the  occasion  of  the  second  rehearsal,  as  "Walker  strolled 
about  behind  the  scenes  humming  snatches  of  the  music  of  the 
opera  in  a  clear  ringing  voice,  Quin  turned  to  Gay  and  said, 
"There's  a  man  who  is  much  more  qualified  to  do  you  justice 
than  I  am."  Walker  was  called  on  to  make  the  experiment ; 
and  Gay,  "  who  instantly  saw  the  difference,"  accepted  him  as 
the  hero  of  his  piece. 

Dr.  Pepusch,  then  in  the  zenith  of  his  fame,  had  been  very 
judiciously  selected  by  Gay  to  superintend  the  arrangement 
and  adaptation  of  the  airs,  and  he  composed  an  original  over- 
ture upon  the  motivo  of  one  "of  the  tunes:  "Pm  like  a  skiff." 
His  accompaniments  were  masterly ;  but,  long  before  the  ope- 


38  QUEENS   OF   SONG. 

ra  was  laid  aside  tbey  were  superseded  by  others  more  in  ac- 
cordance with  modern  taste. 

Before  the  curtain  rose  there  occurred  a  somewhat  awkward 
contretemps^  which  augured  ill  for  the  success  of  the  opera.  It 
was  at  that  time  customary  for  a  short  piece  of  music  to  be 
played  before  the  overture,  but  the  leader  thought  it  better  to 
omit  it,  as  being  more  in  accordance  with  the  Italian  method. 
The  audience  did  not  appreciate  this,  and  expressed  discontent, 
which  at  length  swelled  to  clamor.  Jack  Hall,  the  celebrated 
comedian  (who  was  to  play  Lockit), being  deputed  to  apologize 
for  the  omission,  by  informing  the  spectators  that,  at  the  Oji- 
era,  it  was  a  rule  to  have  no  music  prior  to  the  overture,  Jack 
good-humoredly  assented,  and  stepped  up  to  the  foot-lights. 
A  dead  silence  ensued,  and  the  valiant  Jack  was  so  confound- 
ed at  the  abrupt  transition  from  uproar  to  so  strange  a  still- 
ness, that  he  stammered,  looked  bewildered,  and  finally  blun- 
dered out,  "Ladies  and  gentlemen,  we — we — beg  you'll  not 
call  out  for  first  and  second  music,  because — because,  you  know, 
there  is  nevei'  any  music  at  all  in  an  opera  P''  An  explosion 
of  laughter  saluted  this  brilliant  speech,  and  Jack,  confused 
and  ashamed,  made  an  awkward  bow  and  retreated  abruptly, 
leaving  it  to  a  more  self-pessessed  actor  to  explain  his  mean- 
ing. The  audience  thus  appeased,  the  overture  was  played, 
and  the  curtain  rose. 

There  were  numbers  of  the  author's  friends  in  the  house, 
and  many  men  of  fashion  and  note ;  among  others,  gaunt  Sir 
Thomas  Robinson,  and  the  famous  horse-racer.  Sir  Robert 
Fagge.  The  Duke  and  Duchess  of  Queensberry  were  also 
present.  The  duchess  was  sanguine ;  the  duke  did  not  know 
what  to  say :  "  This  is  a  very  odd  thing,  Gay,"  he  remarked  to 
the  poet ;  "  it  is  either  a  very  good  thing  or  a  very  bad  thing." 

The  piece  was  full  of  hits  and  sarcasms  directed  against  the 
men  in  power,  who  had.  Gay  thought,  used  him  badly.  One 
or  two  of  the  songs  were  written  by  other  persons ;  the  first, 
"  The  modes  of  the  Court,"  being  written,  according  to  the 
Dowager  Lady  Townsend,by  Lord  Chesterfield ;  "  Virgins  are 
like  the  fair  flower,"  by  Sir  Charles  Williams;  "When  you 
censure  the  age,"  by  Swift ;  and  "  Gamesters  and  lawyers  are 
jugglers  alike,"  was  suspected  to  be  written  by  Mr.  Fortescue, 
then  Master  of  the  Rolls.  The  political  "  hits"  were  thorough- 
ly appreciated  and  enjoyed.    Lockit's  song,  "  When  you  cen- 


LAVINIA   FEXTON  (dUCHESS    OF   BOLTOx).  39 

sure  the  age,"  was  instantly  felt  to  apply  to  Sir  Robert  Wal- 
pole,  and  was  loudly  encored.  Sir  Robert,  with  ready  Mit, 
parried  the  thrust,  at  the  repetition  of  the  song,  by  calling  out, 
in  a  sonorous  voice,  "  Encore !"  which  produced  a  general 
cheer. 

Success,  however,  still. wavered,  and  Gay's  friends  were 
watching  the  course  of  affairs  very  anxiously,  when  the  Duke 
of  Argyle,  who  sat  in  the  box  adjoining  that  occupied  by  Pope 
and  Swift,  was  heard  to  say,  "  It  will  do — it  must  do — I  see  it 
in  their  eyes."  This  was  encouraging,  for  the  taste  of  his 
grace  was  undoubted,  and  he  had  a  happy  faculty  of  discover- 
ing which  way  the  inclination  of  the  jDublic  lay.  At  length 
Polly  appeared.  She  was  dressed,  not  as  Polly  Peachum  has 
been  attired  in  more  modern  times,  but  Avith  an  almost  Quak- 
erish simplicity.  Her  innocent  looks  and  her  charming  air 
electrified  the  audience,  and  when  she  came  to  the  two  lines, 
"For  on  the  rope  that  hangs  my  dear 
Depends  poor  Polly's  life," 

she  sang  with  such  pathetic  effect  that  plaudits  broke  simul- 
taneously from  all  quarters  of  the  house.  This,  every  body 
admitted,  saved  the  piece.  The  delight  of  the  audience  in- 
creased as  the  opera  proceeded,  and  the  curtain  fell  amid  reit- 
erated expressions  of  approval. 

After  this  the  Beggar''s  Opera  attained  a  popularity  unrival- 
ed. Nothing  else  would  be  tolerated ;  and  even  on  one  ben- 
efit night,  when  a  performer  was  suddenly  taken  ill  and  they 
were  obliged  to  give  out  another  play,  the  audience  would  not 
hear  of  any  other  piece  being  substituted  but  the  Beggar's 
Opera,  though  it  was  then  in  the  thirty-sixth  night  of  its  run ; 
and  the  performers  were  obliged  to  comply.  "It  made  its 
progress  into  Wales,  Scotland,  and  Ireland ;  ladies  carried  the 
principal  songs  on  fans,  and  houses  were  furnished  with  it  in 
screens ;  furthermore,  it  drove  out  of  England  (for  that  sea- 
son) the  Italian  Opera,  which  had  carried  all  before  it  for  ten 
years."  The  performers  groAv  rather  tired  of  the  piece,  and 
on  the  seventy-second  night  of  representation,  Walker  happen- 
ing to  be  a  little  imperfect  in  his  part.  Rich  called  out  to  him, 
on  his  return  from  the  stage,  "Halloa,  mister,  I  think  your 
memory  ought  to  be  pretty  good  by  Ihis  time !"  "  And  so  it 
is,"  retorted  Walker,  "  but,  zounds,  sir,  my  memory  is  not  to 
last  forever." 


40  QUEENS    OF   SONG. 

It  was  even  performed,  as  a  fashionable  folly,  by  children,  at 
the  theatre  in  Lincoln's  Inn  Fields ;  and  "  that  the  childish  ex- 
hibition might  be  supported  in  all  its  branches,"  says  Malcolm, 
"the  manager  contrived  to  send  a  book  of  the  songs  across 
the  stage  by  a  flying  Cupid  to  Duke  Frederick,  Prince  of 
Wales."  Swift  exerted  his  powerful  pen  to  make  the  opera 
as  popular  in  Dublin  as  it  was  in  London ;  and  in  a  booth  erect- 
ed in  George's  Lane  it  was  performed  by  children,  when  little 
Peggy  Woffington  made  her  first  appearance  on  any  stage. 
It  was  played  at  i^rivate  theatricals  in  fashionable  drawing- 
rooms.  "  If  you  are  getting  uja  the  Beggar's  Opera^''  Mrs. 
Delany  writes  to  her  sister,  "  pray  let  me  play  Mrs.  Slammer- 
kin,"  a  character  admirably  suited  to  any  one  who  might  de- 
sire to  shine  by  dress  and  fine-lady  aping.  As  for  the  author, 
his  profits  were  said  to  have  been  not  less  than  £2000,  while 
he  received  £4000  for  copyright  alone.  In  fact,  it  was  a  say- 
ing, remembered  to  this  day,  that  the  unparalleled  success  of 
the  piece  "  made  Gay  rich,  and  Rich  gay." 

Lavinia  Fenton,  the  heroine  of  the  opera,  found  herself  sud- 
denly the  object  of  a  furore  of  admiration.  Her  portrait  ap- 
peared in  every  print-shop  window ;  poems,  verses,  and  pieces 
of  elaborate  doggerel  were  addressed  to  her;  improbable 
sketches  of  her  career,  private  and  theatrical,  were  published ; 
collections  were  made  of  imaginary  hons  mots  and  witticisms 
which  she  had  never  uttered,  but  which  were  given  to  the 
world  in  her  name;  she  became  a  reigning  toast  in  town,  and 
was  more  than  ever  persecuted  by  the  flatteries  of  men  of  fash- 
ion, insomuch  that  every  night,  after  the  performance  was  over, 
she  was  guarded  home  by  a  number  of  her  particular  friends, 
lest  she  should  be  forcibly  carried  oifby  some  of  her  admirers. 
Her  salary  was  immediately  raised  by  Rich  to  the  fabulous 
sum  of  30s.  a  week,  out  of  which  she  spared,  it  was  said,  an  al- 
lowance for  the  maintenance  of  her  father,  who,  it  is  to  be  pre- 
sumed, was  now  in  indifterent  circumstances. 

Six  months  after  the  production  of  the  opera — in  the  July 
following — she  quitted  the  stage ;  for  Charles,  the  third  Duke 
of  Bolton,  among  other  men  of  high  rank,  addressed  her  with 
passionate  admiration,  his  heart  being  captivated,  as  he  after- 
ward declared,  by  the  plaintive  and  bewitching  manner  in 
which  she  sang  "  Oh  ponder  Avell."  He  was  already  married, 
but  the  young  prima  donna  consented  to  go  and  reside  with 


LA.VIXIA   FENTON  (dUCHESS    OF   BOLTOX).  41 

him,  having  a  presentiment  that  the  coronet  of  a  duchess 
would  one  day  encircle  her  brow.  Swift,  in  one  of  his  letters, 
says,  "The  Duke  of  Bolton  has  run  away  with  Polly  Peachum, 
having  settled  £400  a  year  on  her  during  pleasure,  and,  upon 
disagreement,  £200  more." 

Her  successor  in  the  part  of  Polly  was  a  Miss  Warren,  who 
had  similar  fortune  in  attracting  the  admiration  of  a  wealthy 
gentleman,  by  whom  she  was  taken  from  the  stage.  The  ulti- 
mate fate  of  Tom  Walker  is  worthy  of  a  passing  word.  His 
astonishing  success  was  destructive  to  him,  for  his  society  be- 
came so  much  sought  by  dissipated  young  men  of  fashion  that 
he  fell  into  inveterate  bad  habits ;  he  was  scarcely  ever  sober, 
and  was  constantly  under  the  necessity  of  eating  sandwiches 
— or,  as  they  were  then  called,  anchovy  toasts — behind  the 
scenes,  to  allay  the  fumes  of  the  Avine  or  sjnrits  he  had  imbibed. 
In  consequence  of  his  intemperate  course,  he  at  length  died,  in 
great  distress,  in  1774,  at  the  age  of  forty-six,  a  victim  to  vi- 
cious courses.  Lavinia  Fenton  did  not  cast  any  discredit  on  her 
elevated  position — for  such  she  regarded  a  shameful  life  with 
a  duke.  She  was  easy,  graceful,  and  able  to  converse  with 
fluency,  and  to  do  the  honors  of  the  duke's  table.  Dr.  Joseph 
Warton,  in  a  note  subjoined  to  one  of  Swift's  letters  to  Gay, 
gives  a  very  favorable  sketch  of  her  demeanor.  "  She  was," 
he  says,  "  a  very  accomplished  and  most  agreeable  companion, 
had  much  wit,  good  strong  sense,  and  a  just  taste  in  jDolite  lit- 
erature. I  have  had  the  pleasure  of  being  at  table  with  her, 
when  her  conversation  Avas  much  admired  by  the  first  charac- 
ters of  the  day,  particularly  by  old  Lord  Bathurst  and  Lord 
Granville." 

For  twenty-three  years  she  remained  with  the  duke,  several 
children  being  born  to  her  during  that  period.  A  story  is  re- 
lated, which  tells  how  she  once  quarreled  with  his  grace,  and 
they  were  about  to  separate,  much  to  the  chagrin  of  the  love- 
ly and  ambitious  fair  one,  when  a  happy  thought  struck  her. 
Plastening  to  her  dressing-room,  she  arrayed  herself  in  the  cos- 
tume of  his  favorite  Polly  Peachum,  and,  returning,  presented 
herself  before  him  in  all  the  grace  and  simplicity  of  the  char- 
acter, extended  her  arms,  and  sang  pathetically,  "  Oh  what  jDain 
it  is  to  part !"  Melted  to  the  heart  by  her  beauty,  her  tender 
attitude,  and  his  reminiscences  of  the  impression  she  had  once 
made  on  him,  the  duke  opened  his  arms,  and,  pressing  her  to 


42  QUEENS    OF   SONG. 

his  breast,  became  reconciled  to  the  fascinating  and  ingenious 
songstress. 

At  the  close  of  the  twenty-three  years  Lavinia  Fenton  was 
married  to  the  Duke  of  Bolton.  She  did  not  long  enjoy  her 
station,  however,  for  she  died  nine  years  after,  when  she  was 
buried  at  Greenwich  with  all  appropriate  honors. 


EARLY   FREXCn   SINGERS.  43 


CHAPTER  IV. 

EARLY   FRENCH    SINGERS. — MARTHE   LE    ROCHOIS — LA   MAUPIN. 

The  French  Opera,  like  that  of  every  other  country,  was  de- 
rived from  Italy.  The  first  Italian  company  of  performers  ap- 
peared at  Paris  in  1577,  and  attracted  such  crowds  that  (it  was 
said)  the  churches  were  deserted  for  the  theatre.  Another 
Italian  company  was  brought  to  Paris  by  Cardinal  Mazarin  in 
1645,  daring  the  minority  of  Louis  XIV.,  but  at  that  time  op- 
era was  little  encouraged.  Pieces  called  ballets,  composed 
chiefly  of  dancing,  but  with  dramatic  action  and  music,  Avere 
the  favorite  amusement  of  the  court ;  and  it  was  not  till  the 
appearance  of  Quinault  as  poet,  and  of  Lulli  as  musician,  that 
the  French  opera  stage  came  into  existence.  Their  joint  la- 
bors gained  unbounded  popularity ;  and  the  j^oetry  of  the  one 
and  the  music  of  the  other  are  found  Avorthy  of  admiration 
even  at  tlie  present  day. 

Lulli  added  to  his  musical  genius  great  administrative  tal- 
ent in  the  management  of  the  Opera.  His  discipline  is  de- 
scribed as  tyrannical,  but  most  efficient.  He  not  only  discov- 
ered performers  of  promising  ability,  but  taught  them  almost 
every  thing  belonging  to  their  art.  Among  these  young  as- 
pirants to  distinction  was  Marthe  le  Rochois,  who  owed  every 
thing  to  this  great  maste*. 

Marthe  le  Rochois  was  born  in  Caen  about  1658,  of  a  fam- 
ily little  favored  by  the  smiles  of  fortune.  Left  an  orphan 
when  only  a  year  old,  she  had  been  adopted  by  an  uncle,  who, 
dying,  left  her  with  nothing  to  depend  on  besides  the  excellent 
education  which  he  had  given  lier,  and  the  fine  voice  with 
which  Nature  liad  endowed  her.  Tlie  young  provincial  Avas 
not  beautiful ;  she  Avas  not  even  pretty ;  but  she  Avas  exceed- 
ingly clever.  Her  figure  Avas  mediocre,  not  to  say  vulgar ;  her 
face  had  nothing  to  redeem  it  from  positive  plainness  save  a 
pair  of  black  eyes  full  of  brilliance  and  expression,  Avhich  seem- 
ed to  reilect  every  passion  and  sentiment  rising  in  her  mind. 


"»■• 


44  QUEENS   OF   SONG. 

She  entered  the  Academy  in  1677,  and  her  progress  in  singing 
and  in  declamation  was  astonishing. 

Lulli  was  struck  with  the  talent  of  the  young  student ;  he 
was  interested  by  her  gifts  and  intelligence.  He  could  read- 
ily sympathize  with  and  assist  genius  which  rose  from  a  hum- 
ble rank,  for  he  himself  had  made  his  position  entirely  by  his 
own  efforts.  The  Chevalier  de  Guise  had  brought  him  from 
Italy  as  a  page  for  Mademoiselle  de  Montpensier,  but  his  short, 
thick  figure  and  ugly  face  disgusted  the  lady,  and  she  sent  him 
down  to  her  kitchen  as  under  scullion.  The  Comte  de  No- 
gent,  one  of  the  gentlemen  of  the  court,  noticed  the  clever  lad, 
who  was  always  scraping  at  an  old  fiddle  when  he  was  not 
scraping  dishes,  and  Jean  Baptiste's  fortune  was  made. 

The  sagacity  of  Lulli  was  not  at  fault  with  regard  to  Mdlle. 
le  Rochols.  He  made  her  the  most  tempting  offers  at  a  time 
when,  according  to  Madame  de  Maintenon,  it  did  not  cost  more 
than  eleven  thousand  livres  to  have  a  handsome  house,  with  a 
coach  and  ten  servants.  Marthe  joyfully  accepted  his  terms, 
and  appeared  in  1680  in  the  character  of  Arethuse,  in  Proser- 
jnne,  a  lyric  tragedy  in  five  acts.  Her  success  .was  brilhant. 
On  the  stage,  so  far  from  being  a  vulgar-looking  brunette,  she 
seemed  a  queen,  a  goddess,  and  all  eyes  were  fixed  upon  her. 
Her  spirit,  her  acting,  her  voice  were  marvelous  ;  every  action 
and  gesture  revealed  talent  of  the  highest  order;  even  her  si- 
lence was  expressive.  Proserpine  was  splendidly  mounted  in 
the  style  of  the  period,  accordmg  to  which,  "  Pluto,  to  make 
the  more  tempting  figure,"  says  Mr.  Spectator,  "  puts  himself 
in  a  French  equipage,  and  brings  Ascalaj)hus  along  with  him 
as  his  valet  de  chamhrer 

In  1682  LulU  produced  Persee ;  in  1683,  Pliaeton  ;  in  1684, 
Amadis ;  and  in  1685,  Poland.  His  music  was  rapturously 
applauded.  Poor  Quinault,  modest  and  retiring,  was  not 
thought  of,  and  invariably  withdrew  into  the  background, 
while  Lnlli  stepped  forward  and  carried  off  all  the  jiraise ;  yet 
every  body  was  jealous  of  Quinault.  "  Where  shall  you  put 
me?"  growled  Boileau  one  night  at  the  Opera.  "Put  me  in 
some  place  Avhere  I  shall  not  be  able  to  hear  the  words."  The 
heaux  esprits  tried  to  force  Lulli  to  give  up  Quinault ;  and  one 
night,  after  supper,  a  whole  party,  Despreaux  at  their  head, 
rushed  on  Lulli,  armed  with  Champagne-glasses,  and  cried, 
"Renounce  Quinault,  or  you  are  a  dead  man!"    This  pleas- 


EAKLT   FEEXCH   SINGERS.  45 

antry  only  made  Lulli  laugh,  so  they  began  to  speak  seriously, 
raking  together  every  possible  circumstance  that  could  disgust 
him  with  the  poetry  of  Quinault.  Perrault,  the  enemy  of  Boi- 
leau,  and  the  inventor  of  French  fairy-tales,  was  almost  the 
only  one  who  dared  to  support  Quinault.  "  He  boasted  of  the 
glory  of  being  his  friend,"  says  an  old  French  writer ;  "  he 
took  in  hand  his  defense,  and  soon  all  the  j)rojects  for  a  pow- 
erful cabal  were  disconcerted." 

Mdlle.  le  Rochois,  far  from  being  intoxicated  with  her  suc- 
cess, retained  all  her  simplicity,  fr/mkuess,  and  sweetness  of 
disposition.  Petty  jealousy  never  troubled  her  oiDen  nature, 
and  she  freely  gave  her  advice  to  all  who  asked  it.  Lulli's  ad- 
miration and  confidence  in  her  genius  increased  every  day  :  he 
consulted  her  on  all  his  works,  and  her  advice,  it  is  said,  con- 
tributed much  to  the  triumphant  success  which  always  attend- 
ed them. 

Armicle,  Lulli's  best  opera,  was  produced  in  1686.  This  was 
the  last  of  Quinanlt's  Avorks;  and  it  is  said  that  Lulli  insisted 
on  his  rewriting  the  last  act  five  times,  which  so  disgusted  the 
poet  that  he  withdrew  from  dramatic  composition.  Others 
ascribe  his  retirement  to  feelings  of  devotion. " 

Mdlle.  le  Rochois  surpassed  herself  in  this  opera,  and 
achieved  triumphant  success  in  the  character,  which  aflbrded 
her  ample  scope  for  impassioned  acting  in  striking  situations. 
She  appeared,  in  the  first  act,  between  two  confidantes  remark- 
able for  the  beauty  of  their  forms  and  loveliness  of  their  faces, 
Mdlle.  Moreau  and  Mdlle.  Desmtitins ;  but,  for  the  moment, 
people  saw  only  Mdlle.  le  Rochois,  when,  opening  her  arms 
and  raising  her  head  majestically,  she  uttered  the  verses, 
"  Je  ne  tviomplic  pas  du  plus  vaillant  dc  tous, 
L'indomptablc  Eenaud  echappe  a  mon  courronx ;" 

yet  those  very  arms  which  she  raised  were  so  deformed  that 
they  had  to  invent  sleeves  d  lapermnne  to  hide  them.  In  the 
last  scene  in  the  second  act,  when  Armide  advances,  dao-a:er  in 
hand,  ready  to  stab  the  sleeping  Renaud,  fury,  love,  compas- 
sion, and  tenderness  by  turns  were  displayed  in  her  gestures 
and  depicted  in  her  countenance.  During  this  soliloquy,  when 
she  is  prevented  from  striking  Renaud  by  the  influence  of  a 
passion  of  which  she  is  as  yet  imconscious,  her  action  was  ex- 
quisitely beautiful. 

At  first  Armide  was  not  popular ;  this  caused  extreme  mor- 


46  QUEENS   OF   SONG. 

tification  to  Lulli,*  who  was  such  a  j^assionate  admirer  of  his 
own  compositious  that  ho  declared  he  would  have  killed  any 
one  who  said  they  were  bad.  He  had  the  opera  pei-formed 
for  his  sole  gratification,  he  alone  constituting  the  audience. 
The  king,  being  told  of  this  odd  whim,  thought  the  opera  must 
be  good,  since  Lulli  himself  was  so  pleased;  and  he  ordered  it 
to  be  performed  before  him,  and  was  charmed  with  it.  Of 
course  the  court  and  the  public  immediately  changed  their 
opinion  of  the  opera,  and  it  was  well  received  after  this.  The 
libretto  was  afterward  reset  by  Rameau,  and  more  recently  by 
Gliick,  with  whose  music  it  is  still  occasionally  performed  in 
France  and  Germany. 

Marthe  le  Rochois  sang  for  ten  years  after  the  death  of  her 
master,  who  was  succeeded  in  the  management  of  the  theatre 
for  a  short  time  by  his  son-in-law.  Her  salaiy  was  1000  livres. 
At  last  her  strength  gave  way  beneath  her  constant  efforts, 
and  she  felt  obliged  to  ask  permission  of  the  king  to  retire. 
Her  final  appearance  was  in  the  first  representation  of  V Eu- 
rope galante,  October  24th,  1697.  She  obtained  leave  to  quit 
the  stage  after  twenty  years  of  exertion,  and  Louis  marked  his 
sense  of  her  merits  by  granting  her  a  pension  of  1000  livres, 
to  which  the  Due  de  Sully  added  500  livres.  She  was  suc- 
ceeded by  the  demoiselles  Moreau,  Desmatins,  and  DeMaupiu. 

Mdlle.  le  Rochois  resided  during  the  summer  at  a  little  coun- 
try house  which  she  had  purchased  at  the  village  of  Sartrouville- 
sur-Seinc,  four  miles  from  the  capital,  and  spent  the  winter  in 
Paris ;  and  her  house  was  the  resort  of  all  the  eminent  artistes 
of  the  time.  After  enduring  great  physical  sufierings  with 
much  resignation,  she  died  October  28th,  1728,  at  Paris,  and 
was  buried  in  the  church  of  St.  Eustache.  The  naive  old  his- 
torian of  the  opera,  Durey  de  Noinville,  gives  her  a  charming 
character  for  amiability ;  and  the  Abbe  de  Chaulieu,  her  lover, 
addressed  to  her  thii'teen  madrigals. 

Mdme.  la  Maupin  flourished  at  a  somewhat  later  period. 
The  history  of  this  singer  is  like  a  wild  romance.  She  was 
the  daughter  of  the  Sicur  d'Aubigny,  secretary  to  the  Comte 
d'Armagnac,  and  was  born  in  Paris  in  1673.  While  yet  al- 
most a  child,  she  marriod  a  gentleman  named  Maupin,  of  St. 
Germain-en-Laye,  who  obtained  a  government  situation  in  a 
distant  province.  M.  do  Maujiin  had  the  folly  to  leave  his 
child-wife  in  the  capital,  where,  freed  from  all  control,  she,  a 


EAELY   FRENCH   SINGERS.  47 

wayward,  untutored  creature,  threw  herself  into  a  succession 
of  madcap  enjoyments  with  all  the  impetuosity  of  her  nature. 
She  had  a  taste  for  masculine  exercises  and  accomplishments, 
and  having  become  acquainted  with  a  man  named  Seranne,  as- 
sistant in  a  fencing  academy,  took  it  into  her  head  that  she 
would  learn  fencing.  She  soon  surpassed  her  master ;  and  her 
audacious  nature  leading  her  to  throw  off  all  restraint,  she 
agreed  to  elope  with  him  to  Marseilles.  In  order  to  be  more 
at  liberty  in  traveling,  she  assumed  male  attire  and  the  name 
of  M.  d'Aubigny.  The  guilty  pair  suddenly  discovered  that 
they  had  no  money  to  live  on ;  but,  as  they  both  possessed  fine 
voices,  though  totally  ignorant  of  music,  and  were  of  showy 
exterior,  they  easily  obtained  employment  at  the  opera-house 
of  Marseilles.  The  voice  of  the  supposed  M.  d'Aubigny  was 
beautiful,  sympathetic,  and  flexible,  and  she  had  a  natural  in- 
stinct for  the  truthful  in  nature  and  the  effective  in  art ;  she 
always  played  male  characters,  and  was  very  much  admired  as 
a  clever  singer  and  an  elegant  young  man.  A  foolish  girl  of 
the  city  saw  the  supposed  M.  d'Aubigny  on  the  stage,  and, 
struck  with  his  appearance,  fell  in  love  with  him.  Mdrae.  la 
Maupin,  for  a  whim,  encouraged  this  predilection ;  but  the 
friends  of  the  young  lady,  rightly  disapproving  of  the  acquaint- 
ance, placed  her  in  a  convent  at  Avignon.  The  actress  fol- 
lowed her  admirer,  and,  resuming  the  feminine  robes  which 
she  had  discarded,  applied  to  be  received  as  a  novice,  being 
determined  to  carry  off  the  young  lady  whom  she  had  pursued. 
An  opportunity  soon  presented  itself.  One  of  the  nuns  died, 
and.  was  buried  within  the  precincts  of  the  convent ;  La  Mau- 
pin with  her  own  hand  disinterred  the  corpse,  laid  it  on  the 
bed  of  the  young  Marseillaise,  set  fire  to  the  chamber,  and  in 
the  confusion  made  her  escape  with  the  infatuated  girl.  Im- 
mediately on  the  discovery  of  this  double  crime,  Mdme.  la 
Maupin  w\as  arraigned  in  her  theatrical  name,  and  condemned 
to  be  burnt  for  contumacy  in  default  of  appearing.  She  ran 
away  to  Provence,  and  the  silly  Marseillaise  girl  was  restored 
to  her  friends. 

For  some  time  La  Maupin  lived  by  singing  in  the  cabarets 
of  the  towns  through  which  she  passed.  She  was  painfully 
conscious  of  the  miseries  of  her  vagabond  life,  but  her  ambi- 
tion prompted  her  to  strive  to  excel,  although  her  audience 
was  invariably  of  necessity  rude  and  ignorant.     She  tried  to 


48  QUEENS    OF   SONG. 

sing  her  very  best  on  every  occasion,  and  to  give  expression 
and  truth  as  far  as  she  could  to  what  she  sung,  and  adopted 
every  means  of  captivating — of  moving  her  hearers :  "  I  tried 
even  to  compose  the  words  and  airs  of  some  chansonettes, 
which  were  liked  well  enough  by  my  rough  audiences,"  she 
says  herself. 

At  length  she  arrived  at  Paris,  and  succeeded  in  gaining  ad- 
mittance to  the  school  of  Lulli.  Two  months  after  she  made 
her  debut,  under  her  husband's  name,  at  the  Opera,  as  Pallas, 
in  Lulli's  Cadmus  et  Hermione.  She  was  still  almost  ignorant 
of  music,  but  her  voice  was  so  good  and  of  such  compass,  and 
her  memory  was  so  tenacious,  while  the  airs  of  Lulli  were  so 
simple,  smooth,  and  easily  learned,  that  she  managed  very  well. 
Her  success  was  immense :  she  soon  became  a  general  favor- 
ite ;  her  name  was  in  every  body's  mouth ;  her  portrait  was  in 
every  shop  window,  and  she  was  surrounded  by  admirers.  She 
was  excellent  both  in  comic  and  serious  parts,  but  it  was  in 
male  characters  that  she  shone  more  especially :  for  these  her 
appearance  and  manners  were  well  suited.  Her  fellow-actors 
regarded  her  with  admiration,  while  they  were  kept  in  awe  by 
her  prowess ;  for,  whenever  she  fancied  she  had  been  insulted, 
she  made  no  scruple  of  avenging  herself  Dumenil,  one  of  the 
singers,  having  offended  her,  she  waylaid  him  one  night  in  the 
Place  des  Victoires,  and  called  on  him  to  give  her  satisfaction. 
Poor  Dumenil,  nigh  fainting  with  terror,  declined,  when  she 
gave  him  a  drubbing,  and  carried  off  his  snuff-box  and  watch 
as  trophies.  Next  day  Dumenil  told  the  story  after  a  fashion 
of  his  own,  saying  that  three  robbers  had  attacked  him,  and 
that  he  had  defended  himself  valiantly,  but,  being  overpower- 
ed by  numbers,  he  was  vanquished  and  plundered.  Mdme.  la 
Maupin,  who  was  standing  near,  suddenly  stejjped  forward, 
and,  with  ineffable  disdain,  exclaimed,  "  Fellow !  you  are  a 
base  liar  and  poltroon.  It  was  I  alone  who  assaulted  you; 
and  as  a  proof,  I  restore  your  miserable  property,"  flinging 
him,  as  she  spoke,  his  watch  and  snuff-box. 

Among  those  who  frequented  the  green-room  was  a  certain 
Baron  de  Servan,  a  fop  and  braggart,  whose  vanity  knew  no 
bounds.  He  had  a  Herculean  figure,  a  loud  voice,  an  over- 
bearing manner,  and  was  fond  of  boasting  of  the  numerous 
duels  in  which  he  had  been  engaged.  One  evening  he  Avas 
going  over  his  list  of  the  fair  ones  who  had  fallen  victims  to  a 


EAELT    FRENCH    SIXGERS.  49 

passion  for  him,  when  he  chanced  to  speak  lightly  of  a  young 
ballet-girl,  Mdlle.  Perignon,  whose  irreproachable  conduct  had 
constantly  defied  calumny.  A  universal  murmur  of  disappro- 
bation at  such  a  piece  of  uugcnerosity  ran  round  the  green- 
room ;  but  the  baron  persisted  in  his  fatuity.  Mdme.  la  Mau- 
pin,  who  was  lounging  on  a  cushion  in  a  distant  corner  of  the 
room,  listening  in  silence  to  this  scene,  allowed  the  baron  to 
speak  as  long  as  he  pleased  ;  then  she  suddenly  rose,  advanced, 
and  addressed  him  haughtily.  Being  dressed  in  her  favorite 
doublet  and  hose,  she  looked  a  tall,  imposing  young  cavalier. 
"  Truly,"  she  cried,  "  I  admire  the  patience  of  these  gentlemen. 
Your  insolent  and  stupid  falsehoods  demand  not  only  refuta- 
tion, but  prompt  and  exemplary  chastisement.  You  are  an  in- 
famous liar,  and  it  is  I  who  tell  you  so."  "And,  pray,  might 
I  ask  who  are  you,  sir  ?"  demanded  the  baron,  trembling  with 
rage.  "The  Chevalier  de  Raincy  —  a  better  gentleman  than 
you,  and  one  ready  to  give  you  a  useful  lesson,"  replied  LaMau- 
pin,  with  a  look  of  contempt.  The  lesson  was  an  eftectual  one. 
The  baron  had  one  arm  broken  by  a  pistol-shot,  and  amputa- 
tion was  pronounced  indispensable.  His  agony  of  rage  when 
he  discovered  that  the  hand  of  a  woman  had  vanquished  him 
is  not  to  be  described,  and  he  retired  from  Paris  to  his  estates. 

Mdme.  la  Maupin  sometimes  carried  her  freaks  to  a  height 
which  would  have  subjected  another  to  condign  punishment. 
One  evening,  being  (in  her  favorite  masculine  disguise)  at  a 
masked  ball  given  at  the  Palais  Royal  by  Monsieur  the  king's 
brother,  she  insulted  a  lady  of  rank  so  grossly  that  three  of 
the  lady's  friends  demanded  satisfixction.  She  followed  them 
to  the  gardens,  and  after  a  few  passes  killed  her  antagonist; 
then  returning  to  the  ballroom,  she  went  up  to  Monsieur,  and, 
unmasking,  told  her  story  and  obtained  his  pardon. 

Arrived  at  the  height  of  fame  and  poi)ularity,  Mdme.  la  Mau- 
pin quitted  France  to  fulfill  a  most  advantageous  engagement 
in  Brussels,  where  she  made  a  great  sensation.  The  eclat  of 
her  adventures,  the  brilliancy  of  her  beauty,  and  her  surpass- 
ing talent,  made  the  highest  impression  on  the  dilettanti  and 
the  strangers  of  distinction  at  that  time  collected  in  the  capi- 
tal of  Belgium.  The  Elector  of  Bavaria  threw  himself  at  her 
feet;  but,  after  a  time,  the  Countess  d'Arcos  eclipsing  her,  the 
elector  sent  the  actress  a  purse  of  40,000  francs  (about  £1600), 
with  an  order  to  quit  Brussels  immediately.  The  husband  of 
4 


50  QUEENS    OF   SOXG. 

the  countess  happened  to  be  the  envoy ;  and  the  supplanted 
favorite  received  him  with  supreme  disdain,  flung  the  purse  at 
his  head,  uttered  several  withering  sarcasms,  and  turned  her 
steps  to  Spain,  She,  however,  retained  the  pension  settled  on 
her  by  the  elector. 

The  marvelous  accounts  which  she  had  heard  of  Spain  had 
greatly  excited  her  imagination,  and  she  fancied  that  in  this 
delightful  and  happy  region  her  success  was  certain ;  but  she 
was  soon  cruelly  undeceived,  and  became  so  reduced  in  cir- 
cumstances that  she  was  compelled  to  take  a  situation  as 
femme-de-charabre  to  the  Countess  Marino,  wife  of  the  minis- 
ter. This  lady,  if  the  historian  does  not  belie  her,  was  ex- 
tremely cross-grained  and  capricious ;  the  unlucky  soubrette 
suffered  long  without  murmuring,  being,  with  all  her  faults, 
very  good-natured  and  soraewiiat  careless  in  temper ;  but  at 
last  her  patience  was  exhausted,  and  she  resigned  her  irksome 
post.  She,  however,  determined  to  revenge  herself,  before  go- 
ing, for  all  she  had  endured.  One  day,  having  to  dress  the 
countess  for  a  court  ball,  in  arranging  the  coiffure  of  the  dame, 
the  wicked  ex-cantatrice  placed  a  number  of  little  red  radishes, 
encircled  by  their  leaves  and  secured  by  large  black  pins,  in 
the  "  back  hair"  of  her  mistress,  bedecking  the  front  and  sides 
with  marabout  feathers,  so  as  to  produce  a  charming  effect. 
The  coimtess  glanced  complacently  in  the  glass,  and  departed 
in  high  spirits  for  the  ball,  where  the  decided  sensation  she 
created  put  her  in  a  flutter  of  delighted  vanity,  until  some  con- 
siderate friend  told  her  the  truth,  when,  red  with  shame,  and 
suffocating  with  rage,  she  rushed  from  the  room.  She  regained 
her  hotel  in  a  towering  passion,  but  did  not  find  her  traitorous 
waiting-woman,  who  had  prudently  taken  the  road  to  Paris. 

Mdmc.  la  Maupin  returned  to  Paris  and  reappeared  at  the 
Opera.  She  discovered,  however,  that  she  no  longer  excited 
the  enthusiasm  which  she  had  been  accustomed  to  raise.  The 
public  were  cold  and  reserved.  Her  voice  was  still  fresh,  her 
acting  excellent,  and  her  beauty  undiminished  ;  but  during  her 
absence  many  things  had  combined  to  alter  the  public  taste. 
New  performers  had  appeared,  and  the  audience  had  become 
more  exacting,  more  critical.  Mdme.  la  Maupin  was  a  bold, 
showy  actress,  but  wanting  in  those  delicate  shades  and  nice- 
ties of  expression  which  the  public  now  demanded.  Finding 
herself  no  longer  an  idol,  a  fit  of  penitence  for  a  hfe  misspent 


EARLY   FRENCH    SINGERS.  51 

seized  the  poor  siren,  who  regretted  the  dissipation  of  past 
years,  and  bewailed  the  errors  of  her  youth. 

One  of  lier  most  ardent  admirers  was  the  Count  d' Albert, 
an  elegant  and  highly-accomplished  nobleman,  to  whom,  while 
he  was  in  the  camp  of  Marechal  Villars,  La  Maupin  had  ad- 
dressed a  poetical  epistle,  written  with  warmth  of  feeling  and 
grace  of  exjjression.  This  effusion  was  subsequently  attribu- 
ted to  Benserade,  who  had  been  dead  for  several  years,  and  it 
is  given  in  the  Anecdotes  Dramatiques^  published  1775,  La 
Maupin  now  wrote  to  Count  d' Albert  in  her  remorse,  explain- 
ing her  motives  for  quitting  the  stage,  and  requesting  his  ad- 
vice. The  gallant  cavalier,  while  testifying  his  personal  regret, 
warmly  counseled  her  to  carry  out  her  idea,  encouraging  her 
in  every  possible  manner.  She  therefore  finally  decided,  and 
returned  all  the  presents  given  her  by  the  cavaliers  of  the 
C(Hirt,  retaining  only  the  pension  of  the  Elector  of  Bavaria. 
Iler  new-grown  piety  increasing,  she  resolved  to  retire  from 
the  world  altogether,  and  wrote  to  her  husband,  desiring  him 
to  come  home  directly :  that  gentleman  meekly  obeyed.  Ma- 
dame la  Maupin  made  her  last  courtesy  to  her  whilom  enthu- 
siastic adorers  in  1705,  and  spent  the  short  remnant  of  her  life 
in  peace.  This  beautiful,  misguided  being  died  in  1707,  at  the 
early  age  of  thirty-four. 


52  QUEENS   OF   SONG. 


CHAPTER  V. 

« 

RIVAL  QUEENS — FEANCESCA   CUZZONI  AND  FAUSTINA  BOEDONI. 

These  famous  sirens  were  the  heroines  of  one  of  the  great- 
est feuds  recorded  in  the  annals  of  the  Italian  stage.  Little  is 
known  of  the  early  career  of  either ;  but  they  had  gained  suffi- 
cient reputation  to  induce  Handel,  when  at  the  height  of  his 
power  as  manager  of  the  Opera,  to  bring,  first  the  one,  and 
then  the  other,  to  England. 

Francesca  Cuzzoni,  who  was  a  native  of  Parma,  arrived  in 
London  about  the  year  1*723,  and  appeared  for  the  first  time 
that  year  in  Handel's  Otho  or  (Ottone),  the  most  popular  of 
all  his  operas.  Her  success  was  triumphant,  and  the  directors, 
who  gave  her  two  thousand  guineas  for  the  season,  were  en- 
abled, on  the  very  second  evening  of  her  performance,  to  charge 
four  guineas  each  ticket. 

Delighted  with  her  powers,  Handel  took  the  utmost  pains 
to  compose  airs  adapted  to  display  her  exquisite  voice  to  ad- 
vantage ;  but,  in  return,  she  treated  him  with  caprice  and  in- 
solence, which  at  last  became  intolerable.  One  morning,  at 
rehearsal,  she  was  so  refractory  that  she  could  not  be  persuad- 
ed to  sing  "  Falsa  imagina,"  in  Otho,  having  raised  some  friv- 
olous objections  to  certain  passages  in  it.  Handel,  after  re- 
proaching her  with  certain  former  instances  of  stubbornness, 
seized  her  round  the  waist,  and  swore,  if  she  persisted  in  her 
obstinacy,  that  he  would  fling  her  out  of  the  window ;  a  threat 
which,  for  the  time  being,  brought  her  to  her  senses.  He  com- 
posed for  her,  among  other  airs  calculated  to  show  her  voice 
to  advantage,  "  AiFanni  del  pensier,"  in  Otho  /  an  air  so  beau- 
tiful that  Mainwaring,  an  eminent  master,  who  was  not  on 
good  terms  with  Handel,  said  that  "the  great  bear  was  cer- 
tainly inspired  when  he  wrote  that  song." 

Her  popularity  was  unbounded ;  and,  although  she  Avas  so 
"  ugly  and  ill  made,"  she  was  a  special  favorite  Avith  the  gen- 
tlemen of  her  audience,  a  fact  commemorated  by  sundry  pun- 
gent ej^igraras.     Her  turbulent  and  obstinate  temper,  her  in- 


EI  VAX   QUEENS.  53 

gratitude  and  insolence,  are  placed  on  record  by  the  autlior  of 
the  Essai  sur  la  Musiqice,  printed  at  Paris.  He  relates  that 
she  once  begged  of  an  Englisli  gentleman  a  suit  of  lace,  but,  not 
liking  it  when  sent  to  her,  she  had  the  audacity  to  throw  it  on 
the  fire.  ' 

Having  driven  Durastanti  away,  and  finding  that  Anastasia 
Robinson  had  quitted  the  stage  immediately  after  her  arrival 
in  England,  Cuzzoni  fimcied  that  she  could  do  just  as  she 
pleased.  But  she  had  worn  out  the  patience  of  the  great  com- 
poser whom  it  was  her  special  delight  to  torture ;  and  wearied 
with  her  follies,  Handel  never  rested  till  he  had  obtained  the 
services  of  another  singer  who  was  then  rising  into  fame. 
This  was  Faustina  Bordoni,  a  Venetian  lady  of  noble  family, 
a  pupil  of  Gasparini  and  Marcello.  She  was  elegant  in  figure, 
and  possessed  the  advantages  of  a  handsome  face  and  agree- 
able manners.  She  was  now  six-and-twenty,  and  had  made 
her  debut  in  her  native  city  at  the  age  of  sixteen,  in  1716,  in 
an  opera  called  Ariodante. 

The  directors  were  in  ecstasies ;  they  felt  sure  that  with  two 
such  exquisite  voices,  forming  so  brilliant  a  contrast,  and  yet 
so  harmonious,  the  Opera  was  made.  ISTor  was  it  the  first  time 
that  these  vocalists  had  appeared  together,  for  they  had  both 
been  engaged  at  Venice  in  1719,  just  seven  years  before.  Un- 
fortunately, the  directors  did  not  take  into  consideration  Cuz- 
zoni's  peculiar  disposition.  Faustina  appeared  first  in  Alexan- 
der, May  5th,  in  which  she  was  ably  supported  by  Senesino  as 
the  heroic  Alexander. 

From  the  night  of  her  first  appearance,  Cuzzoni  hated  Faus- 
tina with  a  bitterness  beyond  expression.  During  the  season 
previous,  that  of  1725,  such  Avas  the  furore  for  Cuzzoni,  that 
the  entire  female  fashionable  world  adopted  the  brown  silk 
dress,  embroidered  with  silver,  which  she  wore  in  the  opera  of 
Modelinda:  "for  a  year  the  dress  seemed  a  national  uniform 
of  youth  and  beauty,"  Burney  says.  And  she  was  so  secure 
of  being  able  to  dictate  her  own  terms,  that  she  disdainfully 
refused  240,000  livres  offered  by  a  director  in  Italy  who  de- 
sired to  engage  her  for  his  theatre.  But  Cuzzoni  foresaw,  or 
chose  to  prophesy,  that  the  beauty  and  amiability  of  her  rival 
would  eclipse  her, 

Faustina  was  in  every  way  a  contrast  to  her  rival.  She  had 
the  advantage  in  point  of  person,  having  a  form  of  perfect  sym- 


54  QUEENS    OP   SONG. 

metry,  though  petite^  and  a  beautiful  countenance,  full  of  fire 
and  intelligence ;  she  was  pleasant,  amiable,  and  prudent,  while 
Cuzzoni  was  disagreeable,  ill-natured,  and  recklessly  extrava- 
gant. As  singers,  the  rivals  were  nearly  on  an  equality ;  for 
Faustina's  voice,  while  surpassing  that  of  Cuzzoni  in  power  of 
execution  and  a  distinct  manner  of  singing  rapid  passages,  yet 
fell  short  of  that  command  of  expression  which  enabled  Cuz- 
zoni at  will  to  bathe  her  audience  in  tears.  Dr.  Burney  de- 
scribes Cuzzoni's  voice  as  being  "  equally  clear,  sweet,  and  flex- 
ible," and  says  that  it  Avas  difficult  for  the  hearer  to  determine 
whether  she  most  excelled  in  slow  or  rapid  airs.  "  A  native 
warble  enabled  her  to  execute  divisions  with  such  facility  as 
to  conceal  every  appearance  of  difficulty;  and  so  soft  and 
touching  was  the  natural  tone  of  her  voice,  that  she  rendered 
pathetic  whatever  she  sang,  in  which  she  had  leisure  to  unfold 
its  whole  volume.  The  art  of  conducting,  sustaining,  increas- 
ing, and  diminishing  her  tones  by  minute  degrees,  acquired  for 
her  among  professors  the  title  of  complete  mistress  of  her  art. 
In  a  cantabile  air,  though  the  notes  she  added  were  few,  she 
never  lost  a  favorable  opportunity  of  enriching  the  cantilena 
with  all  the  refinements  and  embellishments  of  the  time.  Her 
shake  was  perfect ;  she  had  a  creative  fancy,  and  the  power 
of  occasionally  accelerating  and  retarding  the  measure  in  the 
most  artificial  manner  by  what  the  Italians  call  teinpo  rubato. 
Her  hisfh  notes  were  um-ivaled  in  clearness  and  sweetness,  and 
her  intonations  were  so  just  and  fixed  that  it  seemed  as  if  it 
were  not  in  her  power  to  sing  out  of  tune." 

Of  Faustina's  voice,  Quantz,  the  celebi*ated  instructor  of 
Frederick  II.,  gave  Dr.  Bm*ney  a  striking  description.  He 
was  in  London  in  1727,  and  heard  her  sing.  "Faustina,"  he 
says, "  had  a  mezzo-soprano  voice,  that  was  less  clear  than  pen- 
eti'ating.  Her  compass  now  was  only  from  B  flat  to  G  in  alt ; 
but  after  this  time  she  extended  its  limits  dowuAvard.  She 
possessed  what  the  Italians  call  un  cantar  granito ;  her  exe- 
cution was  articulate  and  brilliant.  She  had  a  fluent  tongue 
for  pronouncing  words  rapidly  and  distinctly,  and  a  flexible 
throat  for  divisions,  with  so  beautiful  a  shake,  that  she  put  it 
in  motion  upon  short  notice,  just  when  she  would.  The  pas- 
sages might  be  smooth,  or  by  leaps,  or  consisting  of  iterations 
of  the  same  note ;  their  execution  was  equally  easy  to  her  as 
to  any  instrument  whatever.     She  was,  doubtless,  tlie  first 


raVAL    QUEENS.  55 

Avho  introduced  with  success  a  swift  repetition  of  the  same 
note.  She  sang  adagios  with  great  passion  and  expression, 
but  was  not  equally  successful  if  such  deep  sorrow  were  to  be 
impressed  on  the  hearer  as  might  require  dragging,  sliding,  or 
notes  of  syncopation  and  tem2W  rubato.  She  had  a  very  hap- 
py memory  in  arbitray  changes  and  embellishments,  and  a 
clear  and  quick  judgment  in  giving  to  words  their  full  power 
and  expression.  In  her  action  she  was  very  happy;  and  as 
her  performance  possessed  that  flexibility  of  muscles  and  feat- 
ures which  constitute  face-play,  she  succeeded  equally  well  in 
fv»4-ious,  amorous,  and  tender  parts ;  in  short,  she  was  born  for 
singing  and  acting." 

In  truth,  the  rivalry  which  Cuzzoni  chose  to  organize  was 
all  the  more  absurd  as  their  respective  qualities  were  totally 
opposed,  yet  obviously  calculated  to  act  advantageously  in 
unison.  Tosi,  their  contemporary,  declares,  "Their  merit  is 
superior  to  all  praise ;  for  with  equal  strength,  though  in  dif- 
ferent styles,  they  help  to  keep  up  the  tottering  profession  from 
immediately  falling  into  ruins.  The  one  is  inimitable  for  a 
privileged  gift  of  singing,  and  enchanting  the  world  with  an 
astonishing  facility  in  executing  difliculties  with  a  brilliancy  I 
know  not  whether  derived  from  nature  or  art,  which  pleases 
to  excess.  The  delightful,  soothing  cantabile  of  the  other, 
joined  to  the  sweetness  of  a  fine  voice,  a  perfect  intonation, 
strictness  of  time,  and  the  rarest  productions  of  genius  in  her 
embellishments,  are  qualifications  as  peculiar  and  uncommon 
as  they  are  diflicult  to  be  imitated.  The  pathos  of  the  one  and 
the  rapidity  of  the  other  are  distinctly  characteristic.  AVhat 
a  beautiful  mixture  it  would  be  if  the  excellencies  of  these  two 
angelic  beings  could  be  united  in  a  single  individual !" 

Handel  took  sedulous  care  to  compose  for  La  Faustina,  as 
he  had  hitherto  done  for  his  enemy  Cuzzoni ;  he  wrote  for  her 
the  air  "Alia  sua  gabbia  d'oro,"  in  Alexander,  in  the  perform- 
ance of  whicli  she  "  emulated  the  liquid  articulation  of  the 
nightingale,  and  charmed  the  unprejudiced  part  of  her  hearers 
into  ecstasy." 

The  public  was  soon  divided  into  two  parties,  one  maintain- 
ing that  Cuzzoni  was  peerless,  the  other  that  Faustina  was  un- 
approachable. The  Cuzzoni  party  was  headed  by  the  Count- 
ess of  Pembroke ;  the  Countess  of  Burlington  and  Lady  Dela- 
war  led  the  Faustina  squadron.     The  men  generally  favored 


56  QUEENS    OF   SONG. 

the  Venetian  beauty,  in  consequence  of  her  lovely  face  and  fig- 
ure. To  such  an  extravagant  pitch  was  the  spirit  of  rivalry 
carried,  that  Lady  Walpole  (Horace  Walpole  tells  us),  having 
the  sirens  at  her  house  to  sing  at  a  concert,  at  which  was  pres- 
ent an  assemblage  of  the  first  persons  in  the  kingdom,  had  the 
greatest  difiiculty  to  settle  their  precedence :  one  Avould  not 
yield  to  the  other.  Finding  it  impossible  to  induce  either  to 
sing  while  the  other  was  present,  she  took  Faustina  to  a  re- 
mote part  of  the  mansion,  under  the  pretext  of  showing  her 
some  curious  china;  meanwhile  the  company  obtained  an  aria 
from  Cuzzoni,  who  rejoiced  in  the  idea  that  Faustina  had  fled 
discomfited.  A  similar  device  Avas  practiced  in  order  to  de- 
coy Cuzzoni  from  the  room  while  Faustina  sang. 

At  first  they  behaved  with  tolerable  civility  toward  each 
other,  though  this  very  soon  wore  off.  Sir  Robert  Walpole 
having  declared  for  Faustina,  his  lady,  in  order  that  Cuzzoni 
might  not  be  borne  down  by  his  indifference  to  her  talents, 
patronized  her ;  and  Avhcn  Sir  Robert  was  from  home  she  used 
to  invite  both  to  dinner.  She  was  at  first  perplexed  how  to 
arrange  the  precedence  for  them  at  her  table,  but  they  relieved 
her  embarrassment  by  polite  mutual  concessions.  Matters  at 
last  came  to  a  climax.  On  the  20th  of  June  1727,  there  was  a 
brilliant  assemblage  of  rank,  beauty,  and  fashion  in  the  Opera 
House,  and  the  Princess  Caroline  honored  the  theatre  with  her 
presence  that  evening.  The  two  prime  donne,  were  to  appear 
together,  and  the  partisans  of  each  eagerly  awaited  the  rising 
of  the  curtain.  On  their  appearance  there  was  a  storm  of 
mingled  hisses  and  clapping  of  hands,  which  speedily  swelled 
into  a  hurricane  of  catcalls,  shrieking,  and  stamping ;  the  up- 
roar was  terrific,  and  not  the  slightest  deference  was  paid  to 
the  presence  of  the  princess.  The  following  morning  an  ac- 
count appeared  in  the  London  Journal  which  must  have  as- 
tonished the  loungers  in  coffee-houses.  Epigrams,  lampoons, 
libels,  and  duels  followed  each  other  in  rapid  succession,  and 
the  town  was  in  a  ferment. 

This  riot  led  to  the  vival  singers  abandoning  their  intrench- 
raent  of  feigned  politeness,  and  one  night  they  so  far  forgot 
themselves  as  to  come  to  blows,  the  by-standers  being  unable 
to  separate  them  until  they  had  left  sanguinary  marks  of  their 
hostility  on  each  other's  faces.  A  farce  called  Contretemps ; 
or,  the  R'tvcd  Queens,  was  performed  at  Heidegger's  private 


EIVAL   QUEENS.  57 

theatre,  near  the  Haymarket,  a  few  days  afterward.  Faustina, 
as  the  Queen  of  Bologna,  and  Ciizzoni,  as  Princess  of  Modena, 
exchange  high  words,  seize  eacli  other  by  the  hair,  and  then 
run  off,  Cuzzoni  pursuing  Faustina;  while  Handel,  who  has  a 
small  part  consisting  of  three  lines,  advises  that  the  antagonists 
be  "  left  to  fight  it  out,  inasmuch  as  the  only  way  to  calm  their 
fury  is  to  let  them  satisfy  it." 

These  conflicts  proved  so  injurious  to  the  interests  of  the 
Opera,  that  the  directors  resolved  to  end  them  by  a  stratagem. 
Cuzzoni  had  solemnly  sworn  never  to  accept  one  guinea  less 
sajlary  than  Faustina ;  thus  the  directors  offered  Faustina,  as 
the  more  attractive  and  more  manageable  prima  donna,  one 
(juinea  more  for  the  season ;  and  Cuzzoni  found  herself  out- 
witted. The  Count  di  Kinsley,  Austi'ian  embassador,  advised 
her  to  go  to  Vienna,  and  she  quitted  England  for  that  capital, 
breathing  vengeance  on  Faustina.  The  following  lines  were 
written  by  Ambrose  Phillips  on  her  departure : 

"Little  siren  of  the  stage, 
Charmer  of  an  idle  age, 
Empty  warbler,  breathing  hre, 
Wanton  gale  of  fond  desire ; 
Bane  of  every  manly  art, 
Sweet  enfeebler  of  the  heart ; 
Oh,  too  pleasing  is  thy  strain, 
Hence  to  southern  climes  again  ! 
Tuneful  mischief,  vocal  spell, 
To  this  island  bid  farewell ; 
Leave  us  as  we  ought  to  be. 
Leave  the  Britons  rough  and  free." 

Cuzzoni,  while  in  London,  married  Pietro  Giuseppe  Saudoni, 
of  Bologna,  a  harpischord  maker,  and  a  composer.  He  had 
settled  in  England  some  years  before,  and  made  a  little  repu- 
tation, being  chiefly  remarkable  for  his  skill  in  improvisation. 
The  Countess  of  Pembroke  Avas  his  patroness.  At  first  Cuz- 
zoni had  brilliant  success  at  the  court  of  Vienna;  but  soon  her 
ridiculous  pretensions  and  exaggerated  demands  (for  she  want^ 
ed  to  insist  on  24,000  florins  as  her  salary)  entirely  disgusted 
her  patrons.  She  then  left  for  Italy,  saying  that  she  could 
make  as  much  as  she  pleased  in  her  own  country.  She  after- 
ward made  a  tour  in  Holland,  where  she  lived  sq  extravagant- 
ly that  she  was  at  last  imprisoned  for  debt. 

Seven  years  after  her  flight  from  England  she  was  singing 


58  QUEENS    OF   SONG. 

(in  1734)  at  Lincolu's  Inn  Fields  under  peculiar  circumstances, 
Senesino's  squabbles  with  Handel  had  grown  to  such  a  heiglit 
that  the  maestro  refused  any  longer  to  compose  for  him,  and 
it  became  impossible  that  they  could  remain  in  the  same  the- 
atre. The  public,  however,  sided  with  Senesino,  and  they  sub- 
scribed for  a  new  operatic  establishment.  On  the  13th  of 
June,  1733,  the  following  advertisement  appeared  in  the  Daily 
NeiDs:  "The  subscribers  to  the  opera  in  which  Signer  Sene- 
sino and  Signora  Cuzzoni  are  to  perform,  are  desired  to  meet 
at  Mr.  Hickford's  great  room,  in  Panton  Street,  on  Friday 
next,  at  eleven  o'clock,  in  order  to  settle  proper  methods  for 
carrying  on  the  subscription.  Such  persons  as  can  not  be 
present  are  desired  to  send  their  proxies."  Porpora  and  Ar- 
riffoni  were  engaged  to  direct  the  music,  under  the  control  of 
Lord  Cooper. 

Handel,  on  his  side,  entered  into  an  agreement  with  Heideg- 
ger for  conducting  an  opera  in  partnership  for  three  yeai's,  and 
started  for  Italy  to  engage  singers.  At  the  opera  abroad  he 
heard  both  the  great  Farinelli  and  Carestini,  but  he  made  the 
mistake  of  engaging  the  latter.  The  opposition  immediately 
engaged  Farinelli,  whose  advent  they  announced  with  as  much 
parade  as  if  he  had  come  as  an  envoy  on  an  important  mission, 
and  he  was  engaged  to  perform  fifty  nights  during  the  season 
of  1734-5  for  a  salary  of  1500  guineas  and  a  benefit.  From 
the  moment  he  reached  London  he  created  a  furore.  At  the 
first  private  rehearsal  after  his  arrival  in  the  metropolis,  in  Cuz- 
zoni's  apartments.  Lord  Cooper,  observing  that  the  baud  did 
not  accompany  the  singer,  but  were  all  gaping  with  wonder, 
desired  them  to  be  attentive,  when  they  confessed  that  they 
had  been  so  overpowered  with  admiration  and  astonishment 
as  to  be  unable  to  follow  him — an  incident  vouched  for  to  Dr. 
Burney  by  one  of  the  band. 

Farinelli  sang  with  Cuzzoni,  Senesino,  and  the  others,  at  the 
Duke's  Theatre,  and  became  ridiculously  popular :  from  the 
highest  nobles  to  the  meanest  citizens  and  their  wives,  all 
seemed  to  go  mad  about  him.  He  was  looked  on  as  a  prod- 
igy, introduced  to  the  king,  accompanied  on  the  harpsichord 
by  the  Princess  of  Orange,  and  invited  to  companies  the  most 
exclusive ;  those  who  tried  to  bungle  over  compliments  to  him 
in  bad  Italian,  esteemed  themselves  happy  if  they  received  from 
him  the  condescension  of  a  supercilious  answer.     At  his  first 


KIVAL   QUEE^'S.  59 

benefit,  in  1733,  the  pit  was  filled  at  four  o'clock,  and  the  stage 
Avas  covered  -with  beauty  and  fiishion ;  scenery  was  therefore 
dispensed  with,  the  gilt  leather  hangings  used  at  ridottos  be- 
ing substituted.  Many  of  the  songs  in  the  opera  were  new ; 
and  that  which  preceded  the  chorus,  being  composed  by  Fari- 
nelli,  was  vehemently  encored,  though  the  chorus  was  over, 
and  the  musicians  had  quitted  the  orchestra. 

In  October,  1 734,  Handel  changed  to  Lincoln's  Inn  Fields, 
while  the  opposition  came  to  the  Ilaymarket,  and  inaugurated 
the  season  with  the  opera  of  Ai^taxerxes,  cast  in  a  most  pow- 
erful manner,  Arbaces  being  performed  by  Farinelli,  Artabanes 
by  Senesino,  Mandane  by  Cuzzoni.  Until  Farinelli  arrived  in 
England,  Senesino  had  never  had  an  opportunity  of  hearing 
him,  and  on  the  first  occasion  on  which  they  sang  together, 
Senesino  filled  the  part  of  a  furious  tyrant,  and  Farinelli  that 
of  an  unfortunate  hero  in  chains ;  but  in  the  course  of  the  very 
first  song,  the  latter  so  softened  the  heart  of  the  enraged  des- 
pot, that  Senesino,  forgetting  his  assumed  character,  ran  to 
Farinelli  and  embraced  him.  According  to  Dibdin,  Farinelli, 
now  about  thirty  years  old,  was  "  as  tall  as  a  giant  and  as  thin 
as  a  shadow ;  therefore,  if  he  had  grace,  it  could  be  only  of  a 
sort  to  be  envied  by  a  penguin  or  a  spider."  At  the  end  of 
this  season,  Senesino,  probably  irritated  at  being  thrown  into 
the  shade  by  the  splendor  of  Farinelli's  celebrity,  retired  to 
Sienna, his  native  place;  and, having  acquired  a  sum  of  £15,000, 
built  a  house,  which  he  afterward  bequeathed,  with  his  fortune, 
to  his  relations. 

After  lingering  some  time,  the  rival  Operas,  from  various 
causes,  were  broken  up,  and  the  singers  were  dispersed.  Cuz- 
zoni went  agJlin  on  the  Continent.*  In  the  London  Daily 
Post  of  September  V,  1741,  there  appeared  a  startling  piece 
of  intelligence  :  "We  hear  from  Italy  that  the  fiimous  singer, 
Mrs.  C-z-ni,  is  under  sentence  of  death,  to  be  beheaded  for  poi- 
soning her  husband."  The  sentence,  if  ever  pronounced,  was 
never  put  into  execution.  Seven  years  after  this,  in  1749,  she 
appeared  for  the  third  and  last  time  in  England,  when  she  took 
a  benefit  concert,  on  the  18th  of  May,  at  the  little  theatre  in 
the  Ilaymarket,  at  which  Felice  Giardini,  who  afterward  be- 
came manager  of  the  Opera,  made  his  first  appearance  in  this 

*  It  is  not  quite  certain  whether  it  was  during  her  first  or  second  visit 
that  she  married  Sandoni. 


60  QUEENS    OF   SONG. 

country.  She  issued  a  preliminary  advertisement,  avouching 
her  "  pressing  debts"  and  her  "  desire  to  pay  them"  as  the  rea- 
son for  her  asking  the  benefit,  which,  she  declared,  should  be 
the  last  she  would  ever  trouble  the  public  with.  Old,  poor, 
and  almost  dej^rived  of  her  voice  by  her  infirmities,  her  atterhjrt 
to  revive  the  interest  of  the  public  in  her  favor  was  a  misera- 
ble failure ;  her  star  was  set  forever,  and  she  was  obliged  to 
return  to  Holland  more  wretched  than  she  came.  She  had 
scarcely  reappeared  there  when  she  was  again  thrown  into 
prison  for  debt ;  but,  by  entering  into  an  agreement  to  sing  at 
the  theatre  every  night,  under  surveillance,  she  was  enabled  to 
obtain  her  release.  Her  recklessness  and  improvidence  had 
brought  her  to  a  pitiable  condition ;  and  in  her  latter  days, 
after  a  career  of  splendor,  caprice,  and  extravagance,  she  was 
obliged  to  subsist,  it  is  said,  by  button-making.  She  died  in 
frightful  indigence,  the  recipient  of  charity  at  a  hospital  at 
Bologna,  in  1V70. 

A  far  different  fate  awaited  Faustina.  In  1726  she  left  En- 
gland for  Vienna,  where  she  obtained  an  appointment  of  15,000 
florins.  The  next  season  she  was  singing  in  Venice,  in  the 
bloom  of  her  beauty,  the  object  of  universal  admiration.  It 
happened  that  Adolfo  Hasse  was  director  of  the  orchestra  at 
the  same  time,  and  in  the  flush  of  his  celebrity;  the  Italian 
theatres  intrigued  for  the  honor  of  his  services,  and  he  was 
called  II  caro  Sassone.  Faustina  saw  him  for  the  first  time. 
"  Having  once  heard  Hasse  play  upon  the  harpsichord,  she  im- 
mediately fell  in  love  with  him,"  says  one  biographer.  He 
was  appointed  chapel-master  in  the  conservatorio  degli  incura- 
bili ;  but  his  increasing  reputation  attracted  the  attention  of 
the  King  of  Poland,  and  his  majesty  ofiered  hiifl  the  place  of 
chapel-master  at  Dresden.  Faustina  was  singing  there,  for 
the  first  time,  in  1731,  and  they  consequently  met  again  ;  they 
were  mutually  pleased ;  they  were  nearly  of  the  same  age 
(Hasse  being  one  year  older  than  Faustina),  and  they  were 
married  in  1736.  The  king,  desiring  to  retain  both,  offered 
tliem  12,000  dollars  to  stay  at  Dresden,  and  Hasse  accepted 
the  offer;  but,  being  pressed  to  remain  in  Italy,  he  divided  his 
time  between  the  two  countries.  The  couple  remained  seven 
years  in  the  service  of  the  court  of  Dresden.  King  Augustus, 
who  squandered  immense  sums  on  pictures  and  musicians, 
gave  Hasse  unlimited  power  and  ample  resources,  of  which  he 


RIVAL   QUEENS.  61 

availed  himself  to  place  the  Dresden  opera  on  the  most  com- 
plete and  splendid  footing.  At  length,  however,  the  weak, 
proud,  and  extravagant  royal  amateur  was  compelled  to  dis- 
miss numbers  from  his  service ;  among  others,  Hasse  and  his 
wife,  who  were  obliged  to  be  satisfied  with  a  small  pension. 
They  came  to  England  in  1740,  where  they  were  received  most 
flatteringly. 

In  December,  1747,  Faustina  sang  before  Frederick  the 
Great  in  the  opera  ofArminio;  the  monarch  was  so  charmed 
with  the  freshness  of  her  voice,  although  she  was  then  forty- 
six,  that  he  sent  the  composer  a  present  of  1000  dollars  and  a 
diamond  ring,  as  tokens  of  the  pleasure  he  had  received  from 
the  performance.  Eight  years  after  slie  was  still  able  to  sing, 
but  her  voice  had  lost  its  flexibility,  and  her  intonation  was 
uncertain.     She  finally  quitted  the  stage  iu  the  winter  of  1753. 

In  1760,  Hasse  suflered  much  from  the  bombardment  of 
Dresden  by  the  Prussians,  losing,  among  other  property,  all 
his  manuscripts.  This  was  a  heavy  loss,  as  he  was  about  to  pub- 
lish a  complete  collection  of  his  works,  the  expense  of  which 
the  king  had  promised  to  defray.  He  resided  with  Faustina 
in  Vienna  till  about  1775,  when  they  retired  to  Venice,  the 
birthplace  of  Faustina.  Dr.  Burney  visited  them  in  1773, 
when  they  were  living  in  a  handsome  house  in  the  Landstrass, 
Berlin,  and  were  rather  a  humdrum  couple ;  Hasse  suffering 
from  the  gout,  and  the  lovely  Faustina  of  former  years  changed 
into  a  jolly,  chatty  matron  of  seventy-two,  with  a  couple  of 
pretty  daughters.  As  the  doctor  approached  their  residence 
with  the  Abate  Tarufli,  he  perceived  Faustina  at  the  window, 
who,  seeing  them  stop  at  the  door,  came  to  meet  her  visitors. 
"I  was  presented  to  her  by  my  conductor,"  says  the  doctor. 
"  She  is  a  short,  brown,  sensible,  and  lively  old  woman,  and 
said  she  was  much  pleased  to  see  a  cavaliere  Inrjkse,  as  she 
had  been  honored  Avith  great  marks  of  favor  in  England.  Sig- 
nor  Hasse  soon  entered  the  room.  He  is  tall  and  rather  large 
in  size,  but  it  is  easy  to  imagine  that  in  his  younger  days  he 
must  have  been  a  robust  and  fine  figure :  great  gentleness  and 
goodness  appear  in  his  countenance  and  manners." 

Going  to  see  them  a  second  time,  the  doctor  found  all  the 
family  at  home,  and  enjoyed  a  "  cheerful  and  social  visit."  He 
was  delighted  with  Faustina,  who,  he  says,  was  "  very  convers- 
able, and  still  possessed  of  much  curiosity  concerning  what  is 


62  QUEENS   OF  SONG. 

transacting  in  the  world."  She  had  a  wonderful  store  of  mu- 
sical reminiscences ;  and  he  observes  that  "  she  has  likewise 
good  remains,  for  seventy-two,  of  that  beauty  for  which  she 
was  so  much  celebrated  in  her  youth,  but  none  of  her  fine 
voice.  I  asked  her  to  sing.  '  Ah !  non  posso ;  ho  perduto  tut- 
te  le  mie  facolta.'  '  Alas !  I  am  no  longer  able,'  said  she ;  '  I 
have  lost  all  my  faculties.' "  "I  was  extremely  captivated," 
adds  the  doctor,  "  with  the  conversation  of  Signor  Hasse.  He 
was  easy,  communicative,  and  rational,  equally  free  from  ped- 
anti'y,  pride,  and  prejudice.  He  spoke  ill  of  no  one,  but,  on 
the  contrary,  did  justice  to  the  talents  of  several  composers 
that  were  occasionally  named,  even  to  those  of  Porpora,  who, 
though  his  first  master,  was  ever  after  his  greatest  rival."  He 
played  on  the  piano  for  Burney  on  this  occasion,  in  spite  of 
the  gout,  which  had  attacked  his  fingers ;  and  then  his  daugh- 
ters, two  agreeable  young  ladies,  sang  for  the  doctor  to  his 
great  gratification.  One  was  a  "  sweet  so^^rano,"  the  other  a 
"  rich  and  powerful  contralto,  fit  for  any  church  or  theatre  in 
Europe ;"  both  girls  "  having  good  shakes,"  and  "  such  an  ex- 
pression, taste,  and  steadiness  as  it  is  natural  to  expect  in  the 
daughters  and  scholars  of  Si2;nor  Hasse  and  Sisrnora  Faustina." 
Faustina  and  her  husband  both  died  in  1783,  she  eighty- 
three,  he  eighty-four. 


CATERIKA  MIXGOTTI.  63 


CHAPTER  VI. 

CATEKINA    MINGOTTI. 

Caterina  Mijtgotti,*  born  at  ISTaples  about  1726,  Avas  the 
daughter  of  Valentini,  an  officer  in  the  Austrian  service,  and  a 
native  of  Carinthia,  a  German  province  in  the  dominions  of 
Austria.  While  she  was  yet  an  infant,  her  father  Avent  to 
Gratz,  in  Silesia,  accompanied  by  his  wife  and  three  little  girls. 
Soon  after  their  arrival  Valentini  died,  and  left  his  youngest 
child  to  tlie  care  of  her  uncle,  who  placed  the  little  girl  in  a 
convent  of  the  Ursulines  at  Gratz,  intending  that  ultimately 
she  should  take  the  veil.  Here  she  quickly  evidenced  an  ar- 
dent love  of  music :  she  would  sit  for  hours  entranced,  listen- 
ing to  the  delicious  strains  of  the  choir.  At  last  she  went  to 
the  abbess,  and  with  tears  in  her  eyes,  in  trembling,  confused 
accents,  timidly  begged  that  she  would  give  her  lessons,  so 
that  she  too  might  be  able  to  join  in  the  singing.  Tiie  abbess 
promised  to  "  take  her  request  into  consideration,"  and  the 
next  day  sent  one  of  the  elder  nuns  to  ask  her  who  had  sug- 
gested her  idea  of  learning  music.  The  child  answered  that 
no  one  had  said  any  thing  to  her  about  it,  but  her  own  love  for 
music  had  inspired  the  thought.  The  superior,  finding  that 
the  child  really  had  an  excellent  voice  and  a  correct  ear,  decid- 
ed on  granting  her  request,  and  on  giving  her  a  musical  educa- 
tion. She  promised  to  give  the  little  petitioner  lessons  of  half 
an  hour's  duration  every  day,  being  unable  to  afford  more  time; 
and  in  these  lessons  she  taught  her  the  first  elements  of  music, 
the  solfeggio,  and  the  first  principles  of  accompaniment,  the 
young  girl  taking  the  contralto  and  the  abbess  the  soprano. 
She  preserved  all  her  life  the  little  book  in  which  was  written 
the  text  of  her  first  lessons,  with  explanations  in  the  German 
language. 

*  Signora  Mingotti  is  called  Caterina  by  almost  all  liei*  biographers,  but 
Mancini,  her  contemporary,  gives  her  the  name  of  Regina,  which  is  adopted 
by  Schilling.  As  she  is  best  known  by  the  name  of  Caterina,  however,  it  is, 
])erhaps,  judicious  to  retain  it. 


64  QUEENS   OP   SONG. 

Caterina  remained  with  the  mms  till  she  was  fourteen,  when 
the  death  of  her  uncle  totally  changed  her  future.     She  re- 
turned to  her  mother  and  sisters,  when  she  found  herself  in  a 
very  uncomfortable   situation.     The   elder  girls,  discovering 
that  she  understood  nothing  of  domestic  duties,  jeered  her  un- 
ceasingly about  her  beautiful  voice,  telling  her  that  she  might 
be  very  clever,  but  that  it  would  require  a  very  skillful  person 
to  find  out  her  abilities,  for  she  was  entirely  useless  in  the 
house,  and  that  one  quick  pair  of  hands  was  worth  all  the  fine 
voices  in  the  world.     Her  desire  of  escaping  the  tyranny  to 
which  she  was  subjected  induced  her  to  accept  the  matrimoni- 
al ofters  of  Siguor  Mingotti,  a  Venetian,  impresario  of  the  Ope- 
ra at  Dresden,  a  man  advanced  in  years,  and  for  whom  she  had 
not  a  spark  of  affection.    She  went  with  him  to  Dresden,  where 
the  famous  Nicolo  Porpora,  then  in  the  service  of  the  King  of 
Poland,  heard  her,  and  spoke  so  rapturously  of  her  talents  that 
offers  were  made  to  Mingotti  to  engage  her  for  the  elector. 
Mingotti  had  faithfully  promised  that  she  should  never  be 
obliged  to  sing  in  public ;  but  he  had  never  had  the  smallest 
intention  of  keeping  his  word,  and  was  now  overjoyed  at  the 
prospect  of  making  a  fortune  through  the  abilities  of  his  fair 
young  wife.     He  represented  to  Caterina  in  glowing  colors  all 
the  advantages  which  w^ere  to  be  derived  from  entering  the 
service  of  the  court  of  Dresden,  and  told  her  how  honored  and 
happy  she  ought  to  feel.     Caterina,  Avho  at  first  thought  it  was 
a  jest,  refused  to  entertain  the  idea  for  an  instant ;  but  he  an- 
grily insisted,  and  she  accepted  the  engagement  in  much  the 
same  spirit  as  she  had  accepted  her  marriage.     She  was  then 
placed  with  Porpora  for  the  purpose  of  finishing  her  musical 
education. 

Faustina  was  at  that  time  the  reigning  cantatrice  at  Dres- 
den, although  she  was  no  longer  young ;  her  husband,  Hasse, 
hated  Porpora,  and  he  was  furious  at  learning  that  Porpora  re- 
ceived a  hundred  crowns  a  month  for  training  a  singer  who 
was  to  rival  Faustina,  while  he  himself  received  only  three  or 
four  hundred  crowns  a  year.  He  thereupon  indited  a  string 
of  epigrams  against  Porpora,  of  which  the  only  one  that  re- 
mains spitefully  points  out  Mingotti  as  the  last  refuge  of  Por- 
pora, the  last  branch  to  which  he  was  clinging  :  im  clou  2^our 
s'ttccrocher  !  But  no  petty  jealousy  interfered  with  Mingotti's 
plans. 


I 


CATERIXA   MINGOrn.  G5 

Catcriua  appeared  in  Metastasio's  AttiUo  Eegolo^  and  was 
greeted  with  unbounded  applause.  She  was  pleasant-looking 
and  plump,  with  a  very  expressive  countenance,  if  a  portrait 
by  Mengs  is  to  be  trusted.  Her  style  of  singing  was  excel- 
lent, nay,  grand,  and  "  such,"  observes  Burney,  "  as  discovered 
her  to  be  a  perfect  mistress  of  her  art."  She  played  with 
verve  and  boldness,  and  evinced  fire  and  intelligence,  disdain- 
ing ancient  tradition,  with  inspiration  and  genius  which  took 
the  sjiectators  by  storm.  Most  of  her  critics,  however,  even 
those  who  were  her  warmest  admirers,  were  of  opinion  that 
her  manner  "  would  have  been  even  more  irresistible  if  she  had 
had  a  little  more  female  grace  and  softness."  For  this  reason 
she  Avas  more  admired  in  men's  characters.  The  mild  Faus- 
tina was  supposed  to  be  enraged  at  Catcrina's  success,  and 
people  thought  she  quitted  Dresden  in  an  ungovernable  fit  of 
jealousy. 

Having  attained  eminence  and  the  approval  of  Dresden,  Ca- 
terina  speedily  obtained  engagements  elsewhere,  and  was  able 
to  dictate  her  own  terms.  She  was  invited  to  Xaples,  where 
she  made  her  first  appearance  as  Aristea  in  the  Olimpiade^ 
composed  by  Galnppi,  in  which  part  she  gained  extravagant 
applause,  not  only  by  her  fine  singing,  but  the  new  reading 
which,  as  an  actress,  she  gave  the  character.  Before  going  to 
Italy  she  applied  herself  so  assiduously  to  the  study  of  the 
Italian  language  that,  when  she  arrived  at  Naples,  she  sur- 
prised the  audience  as  much  by  the  purity  of  her  ])ronuncia- 
tion  as  by  her  melodious  voice  and  expressive,  natural  style  of 
acting. 

On  her  way  from  Dresden  she  passed  through  Vienna,  Avlien 
she  called  on  Metastasio,  entering  his  room  unannounced  and 
abruptly,  in  order  to  secure  an  interview  and  a  letter  to  the 
Princess  di  Belmonte.  It  was  early  in  the  morning  when  she 
surprised  the  poet,  and,  being  attired  in  a  "  military  liabit," 
and  attended  by  "  all  the  graces  of  youth,  vivacity,  and  tal- 
ents," the  heroine  of  his  AttiUo,  she  made  a  conquest  of  him 
at  once. 

She  was  offered  engagements  from  numerous  theatres,  but, 
being  in  the  service  of  the  court  at  Dresden,  her  delicacy  dic- 
tated a  refusal,  and  she  returned  to  the  scene  of  her  first  tri- 
umphs, to  the  disgust  of  her  husband,  who  knew  she  was  re- 
jecting the  most  brilliant  offers.  Dresden  was  not  ungrateful 
5 


66  QUEENS    OF   SOXG. 

for  her  constancy,  and  her  salary  was  cousiJeraLIy  raised  (from 
three  or  four  hundred  crowns)  when  she  resumed  her  duties. 
She  repeated  her  character  in  the  Olimpiade  with  splendid  suc- 
cess, Hasse,  who  was  just  then  engaged  in  the  composition 
of  his  Demofoonte^  and  who,  having  been  absent  on  a  visit  to 
England,  was  again  in  Dresden  in  his  capacity  of  chapel-mas- 
ter, had  not  forgiven  her  for  eclipsing  his  wife,  the  Faustina. 
He  therefore  insidiously  offered  to  compose  for  the  young  vo- 
calist the  adagio  "  Se  tutti  i  mali  miei,"  which  he  did  with  a 
pizzicato  violin  accompaniment  so  arranged  that  any  faults  she 
might  commit  in  singing  it  should  be  distinctly  heai'd.  Though 
pleased  with  the  air  on  trying  it  over,  Caterina  Mingotti  quick- 
ly perceived  the  snare  that  was  laid  for  her,  and,  resolved  to 
baffle  her  enemy,  she  sang  the  piece  on  the  first  night  of  per- 
formance in  so  exquisite  and  conscientious  a  manner  that  even 
Faustina,  who  listened  with  strained  ears,  was  forced  to  admit 
she  was  faultless.  Sir  Charles  Hanbury  Williams,  then  em- 
bassador from  England  at  the  court  of  Dresden,  who  was  the 
friend  of  Hasse  and  of  Faustina,  went  every  where  saying  that 
La  Mingotti  could  not  sing  soft  and  jjathetic  airs ;  but  when  he 
heard  her  sing  Hasse's  adagio,  deeply  regretting  what  he  had 
done,  he  entreated  her  pardon  for  the  injustice  of  which  he  had 
been  guilty,  and  remained  her  constant  friend  and  zealous  de- 
fender ever  after. 

In  1752  she  went  to  Madrid  in  company  with  the  modest 
Signor  Gizziello  (Giovachino  Conti),  having  been  invited  by 
Farinelli,  who  was  director  of  the  Opera  there.  Scarcely  had 
she  settled  in  the  Spanish  capital  before  she  found  the  con- 
trol of  the  all-powerful  vocalist  and  manager  extremely  irk- 
some. He  was  so  rigid,  so  intolerant,  that  he  would  not  per- 
mit her  even  to  practice  in  a  room  overlooking  the  street,  and 
would  not  grant  her  leave  to  sing  any  where  but  in  the  Opera 
or  at  court.  The  Spanish  nobility,  eager  to  hear  the  charming 
cantatrice,  overwhelmed  her  with  pressing  invitations  to  sing 
at  private  concerts  and  balls,  but  she  was  compelled  to  decline 
all  such  offers.  Once  Farinelli  was  forced  to  yield.  A  lady, 
in  a  very  delicate  state  of  health,  felt  a  particular  desire  to  hear 
Signora  Mingotti,  but  was  unable  to  gratify  it  by  a  visit  to  the 
theatre,  fearing  the  excitement  of  the  scene.  Her  husband  ur- 
gently pressed  on  Farinelli  the  request  that  Mingotti  should 
visit  the  invalid,  but  received  a  decided  refusal ;  the  senora  per- 


CATEEINA   MINGOTTI,  67 

sisted,  and  her  lord,  Avisliing  to  indulge  her,  went  at  length  to 
the  king,  and  laid  a  complaint  before  him.  His  majesty  imme- 
diately issued  a  royal  mandate  that  Mingotti  was  to  receive 
the  lady  at  her  house,  and  to  sing  for  her ;  to  which  behest 
Farinelli,  much  against  his  inclination,  was  obliged  to  bow. 

The  O^jera  in  England  at  this  time  was  under  the  direction 
of  Vaneschi,  and  the  haughty  and  capricious  Felice  Giardini, 
who  had  arrived  in  Loudon  in  the  spring  of  1749,  was  director 
of  the  orchestra.  He  had  made  his  first  appearance  at  a  bene- 
fit for  Cuzzoni,  at  the  little  theatre  in  the  Hayraarket,  when  he 
played  a  solo  composed  by  Martini  of  Milan,  and  had  created 
a  great  sensation.  He  had  introduced  a  new  discipline,  and  a 
new  style  of  playing,  which  greatly  conduced  to  the  advance- 
ment of  music ;  in  fact,  his  coming  forms  a  memorable  epoch 
in  the  instrumental  music  of  this  kingdom.  The  Opera  was 
at  this  period  far  from  being  in  a  flourishing  condition ;  there 
were  no  eminent  singers  in  England,  and  the  public  took  very 
little  interest  in  the  proceedings  at  the  Opera  House.  Such 
was  the  disdain  evinced  toward  the  singers,  that,  when  a  no- 
bleman or  gentleman  wished  to  engage  any  of  them  for  a  con- 
cert, he  sent  his  steward  or  butler  to  haggle  with  them  about 
the  price, "  as  they  Avould  for  meat  at  a  butcher's  shambles." 
Vaneschi,  hoping  to  revive  the  failing  enterprise,  brought  to- 
gether a  new  company,  and  in  the  autumn  of  1754  sent  to  in- 
vite Signora  Mingotti  to  England.  She  gladly  quitted  Spain 
and  the  irksome  Farinelli,  bearing  with  her  a  valuable  diamond 
necklace,  the  gift  of  the  queen,  as  a  testimony  to  her  talent, 
and  came  at  once  to  London,  passing  through  Paris. 

On  the  9th  of  November,  1754,  the  theatre  opened  with 
Ipermestra^  an  opera  composed  by  Ilasse  and  Lampugnani,  in 
which  there  was  a  charmingly  plaintive  air  by  the  former  com- 
poser, "Tu  sai  ch'io  sono  amante,"  which  Mingotti  sang  exqui- 
sitely ;  but  the  English  public  did  not  appreciate  her  power 
till  she  sang  the  celebrated  "  Se  tutti  i  mali  miei,"  which  she 
introduced  in  Demofoonte.  Ricciarelli,  the  leading  male  sing- 
er, had  a  neat  and  pleasing  style,  with  a  clear,  flexible,  and  sil- 
ver-toned voice ;  Ciprandi,  the  second  singer,  possessed  taste 
and  feeling ;  and  Signora  Columba  Mattel,  the  second  donna, 
was,  according  to  Dr.  Burney,  "  a  charming  singer  and  a  spir- 
ited and  intelligent  actress,  who  soon  afterward  became  a  great 
favorite  as  first  woman."  The  remaining  remarkable  singers 
were  Curioni  and  IMnndini. 


68 


QUEENS    OF   SONG. 


Tlie  English  public  were  delighted  with  the  brilliant  Italian 
vocalist,  and  the  popularity  of  the  lyric  theatre  revived  magic- 
ally. The  opera  oi Ipermestra  ran  eleven  nights  before  Christ- 
mas, and  was  several  times  pei'formed  afterward.  Mingotti 
continued  to  sing  with  uninterrupted  pojDularity  till  she  sud- 
denly fell  ill,  and  her  place  had  to  be  supplied  in  Hiceimero  by 
another  singer,  Frasi,  about  whom  the  public  cared  nothing. 
The  public,  suspecting  that  her  illness  was  merely  a  "  conven- 
ient cold,"  chose  to  be  considerably  out  of  humor,  till  she  re- 
sumed her  duties  by  appearing  in  Metastasio's  (or,  rather, 
Basse's)  admirable  piece  of  Demqfoonte,  in  which  she  gained 
much  applause.  She  was  very  angry  at  the  harshness  Avhich 
made  no  allowance  for  occasional  indisposition  or  loss  of  voice, 
and  years  afterward  complained  to  Dr.  Burney  of  having  been 
frequently  hissed  by  the  English  because  she  had  the  tooth- 
ache, a  cold,  or  a  fever,  to  which,  she  said,  the  good  people  of 
England  would  readily  allow  every  human  being  to  be  liable 
except  an  actor  or  a  singer.  She  continued  to  sing  with  few 
intervals  till  the  November  of  the  year  following,  1755,  when 
an  ill-timed  indisposition  on  the  production  of  Jomelli's  An- 
dromaca  again  obliged  her  to  relinquish  her  part  to  Frasi, 
whereby  the  success  of  the  opera  was  seriously  diminished. 
Her  extraordinary  popularity  did  not  permit  her  to  escajje 
from  envious  criticism,  and  a  dramatic  satire  was  brought  out 
called  LetJie,  in  which  Mrs.  Clive  sang  a  song  from  an  Italian 
opera,  written  for  the  purpose  of  giving  a  ridiculous  imitation 
of  Signora  Mingotti. 

As  a  singer,  it  is  not  surprising  that  she  should  not  have 
been  on  good  terms  with  Vaneschi ;  and  she  had  hardly  com- 
menced singing  for  him  before  she  began  squabbling  with  him ; 
at  length  their  disputes  rose  to  a  height  which  rivaled  the  cel- 
ebrated fights  between  Handel  and  Bononciui,  or  Faustina  and 
Cuzzoni,  which  had  excited  the  fashionable  and  musical  world 
thirty  years  before.  The  heau  monde  at  once  marshaled  it- 
self into  two  parties,  one  coming  forward  as  the  champion  of 
the  foreign  vocalist,  the  other  taking  up  arras  for  the  manager. 
The  anecdotes  which  have  been  recorded  of  the  contention 
present  a  curious  picture  of  the  manners  of  the  time.  Ladies 
of  the  highest  fashion  took  up  the  matter  as  if  it  had  been  a 
personal  affair,  and  permitted  it  to  occupy  their  principal  time 
and  attention.    Among  others,  Mrs.  Fox  Lane,  afterward  Lady 


CATERIXA   MINGOTTI.  69 

Biugley,  one  of  tlie  most  courtly  leaders  of  t07i^  entered  into 
the  quarrel  with  great  zest,  as  a  vehement  partisan  of  Miugotti. 
One  day  the  Hon.  General  Crewe  called  upon  her,  when  she 
eagerly  begged  him  to  give  his  opinion  as  to  the  merits  of  the 
dispute  between  Mingotti  and  Vaneschi ;  the  general,  having 
listened  with  exemplary  patience  to  a  long  tirade  on  the  points 
at  issue,  innocently  inquired,  "  And  pray,  madam,  -U'lio  is  Sig- 
nora  Mingotti?"  "  Get  out  of  my  house !"  shrieked  the  fash- 
ionable dame,  in  a  towering  passion.  "  You  shall  never  hear 
her  sing  another  note  here  as  long  as  you  live !" 

Mrs,  Fox  Lane  was  in  the  habit  of  giving  the  newly  intro- 
duced "pi'ivate  concerts"  at  her  house,  at  which  Miugotti,  with 
Giardini,  used  to  perform,  in  company  with  sevei-al  of  the  most 
distinguished  dilettanti,  and  as  it  was  impossible  to  hear  the 
amateurs  elsewhere,  of  course  there  was  no  humiliation  or  sac- 
riSce  to  which  fashionable  people  would  not  submit  for  the 
Si  ike  of  obtaining  an  invitation,  of  which  fact  the  lady  was  so 
conscious  that  she  never  let  an  opportunity  escape  of  demand- 
ing contributions  for  hev  2))'otegees.  At  these  concerts  the  pu- 
pils of  the  prima  donna  and  the  talented  violinist  would  per- 
form ;  Mrs.  Fox  Lane,  Lady  Milbanke,  and  Lady  Edgecumbe, 
taking  the  harpsichord,  while  Lady  Rockingham,  the  dowager 
Lady  Carlisle,  and  Miss  Pelham,  sang.  Whenever  a  benefit 
was  in  contemplation  for  either  of  her  favorite  performers, 
their  patroness  would  levy  "black  mail"  on  every  body  she 
knew,  in  the  coolest  manner  imaginable.  "  Come,"  she  would 
say  to  her  friends  and  acquaintances,  "give  me  five  guineas!" 
without  condescending  even  to  inform  them  whether  they 
should  be  favored  with  tickets  in  return.  She  was  Giardini's 
friend  to  the  last,  for  on  her  death-bed  she  bequeathed  him 
£400  per  annum. 

The  quarrels  between  Mingotti  and  Yaneschi  were  only 
terminated  by  the  latter  being  reduced  to  bankruptcy,  and 
finding  himself  first  a  prisoner  in  the  Fleet,  and  then  a  fugitive. 
On  his  failure,  Mingotti  and  Giardini  were  seized  with  the  fa- 
tal ambition  which  has  lured  so  manv  to  ruin,  and  undertook 
the  management  of  the  Opera  in  partnership.  At  first  they 
appeared  to  prosper,  but  a  very  short  time  betrayed  a  differ- 
ent state  of  things ;  and  in  1757  they  discovei'ed  themselves  to 
be  in  a  fair  way  to  share  poor  Yaneschi's  fate :  by  the  end  of 
the  season  their  adventurous  folly  had  involved  them  in  such 


70  QUEENS   OF   SONG. 

difficulties  that  they  gladly  resigned  the  sovereignty  of  the 
Opera.  Giardiui  supported  himself  by  once  more  giving  in- 
struction in  music,  while  Mingotti  hastily  quitted  the  scene  of 
her  triumph  and  humiliation,  and,  after  singing  for  five  years 
in  the  principal  cities  in  Italy,  settled  in  1765  at  Munich.  Her 
unfortunate  speculation  in  London  had  absorbed  the  fortune 
Avhich  she  had  acquired  by  years  of  diligence,  and  left  her  with 
an  income  barely  sufficient  to  support  her  respectably  with 
economy.  Dr.  Burney,  who  visited  her  in  1772,  during  his 
tour,  found  her  occupying  a  very  agreeable  position,  however. 
"  She  seemed  to  live  very  comfortably,  was  well  received  at 
court,  and  esteemed  by  all  who  were  able  to  judge  of  her  un- 
derstanding and  enjoy  her  conversation."  He  describes  her 
conversation  as  highly  interesting  and  instructive.  "  It  gave 
me  great  pleasure,"  he  continues,  "  to  hear  her  speak  concern- 
ing practical  music,  which  she  does  with  as  much  intelligence 
as  any  maestro  cU  cappella  with  whom  I  ever  conversed.  Her 
knowledge  of  singing  and  powers  of  expression,  in  diffisrent 
styles,  are  truly  amazing,  and  must  delight  all  such  as  can  re- 
ceive satisfaction  fiom  song,  unconnected  with  the  blandish- 
ments of  youth  and  beauty.  She  speaks  three  languages- 
German,  French,  and  Italian— so  well  that  it  is  difficult  to  say 
which  of  them  is  her  own.  English  she  Ukewise  speaks,  and 
Spanish,  Avell  enough  to  converse  in  them,  and  understands 
Latin,  but  in  the  three  languages  first  mentioned  she  is  truly 
eloquent." 

She  retired  in  1787  to  Neuborg,  on  the  Danube,  taking  up 
her  residence  with  her  son,  Samuel  von  Buckingham,  inspect- 
or of  woods  and  forests.  As  was  usual  with  vocahsts  at  that 
period,  she  trained  and  brought  forward  several  pupils,  one  of 
whom,  a  German  girl,  was  engaged  in  1791  as  "first  woman" 
at  the  Ilaymarket.  Lord  Mount  Edgecumbe,  in  his  Eeminis- 
cences,  mentions  having  heard  Signora  Mingotti  when  she  came 
to  England  with  this  pupil,  and  says  that  the  signora  had  then 
a  strong,  though  tremulous  voice,  and  gave  him  some  of  her 
most  admired  old  songs.  He  heard  her  at  Munich  also,  when 
he  called  to  see  her,  his  family  having  been  among  the  number 
of  her  friends  and  patrons  when  she  was  formerly  in  England. 

Signora  Mingotti  finally  resided  at  Neuborg,  on  the  Danube, 
with  her  son,  where  she  died  in  1807,  at  the  advanced  age  of 
eighty-one. 


CATEKIXA   GABEIELLI.  71 


CHAPTER  YII. 

CATEEINA    GABRIELLI. 

About  the  middle  of  the  eighteenth  century,  the  celebrated 
Cardinal  Gabrielli  had  in  his  service  a  favorite  cook  who  had 
two  daughters — Caterina,  born  at  Rome  the  12th  of  Novem- 
ber, 1730,  and  Francesca.  Caterina  was  lively,  audacious,  and 
possessed  an  unusual  share  of  beauty,  a  fine  voice,  and  an  ac- 
curate ear.  Her  father  was  fully  aware  of  his  child's  vocal 
talents,  but  unable  to  afibrd  the  means  of  cultivating  them,  and 
was  obliged  to  content  himself  with  taking  her  frequently  to 
the  Tcatro  Argentina,  thus  giving  her  an  opj^ortunity  of  hear- 
ing the  great  singers.  Caterina  profited  so  far  by  these  chance 
lessoHS  that  she  learned  with  ease  the  most  difficult  pieces,  and 
repeated  them  with  fluency.  Her  musical  gifts  came  to  light 
when  she  Avas  fourteen  years  of  age. 

The  cardinal  was  one  day  walking  in  his  gardens,  when  a 
flood  of  untutored  notes  burst  on  his  ear,  resolving  itself  into 
a  very  brilliant  arietta  by  Galuppi.  His  eminence  had  often 
heard  those  wood-notes  wild,  but  had  never  given  them  more 
than  a  passing  thought ;  on  this  occasion,  however,  he  listened 
for  some  time  with  pleased  attention,  and  at  length,  turning  to 
some  of  his  attendants,  he  asked  who  was  the  young  virtuoso 
who  enchanted  his  gardens.  The  reply  w^as  that  the  songstress 
was  the  daughter  of  his  cook.  "  S'6  cosi,"  said  he,  smiling ; 
"il  mio  cuoco  deverra  presto  un  asino  d'oro."  He  sent  for 
Caterina,  and  made  her  go  through  her  whole  stock  of  arias,  a 
task  which  she  willingly  performed.  Delighted  with  her  tal- 
ent, he  immediately  took  upon  himself  the  charge  of  the  girl's 
education,  and  placed  her  under  the  care  of  Garcia  (Lo  Spag- 
noletto),  and  afterward  of  Porpora.  Her  princely  protector 
Avatched  her  progress  Avith  a  keen  eye,  and  frequently  gave 
concerts,  in  order  to  exhibit  to  his  friends  the  youthful  marvel. 
Her  training  was  completed  in  the  conservatorio  of  L'Ospeda- 
letto,  in  Venice,  while  it  was  under  the  direction  of  Sacchini, 
who  succeeded  Galuppi. 


72 


QUEENS    OF   SONG. 


Havina:  ofone  tbroua-h  a  rio-id  course  of  instruction,  Caterina 
made  her  appearance  at  the  age  of  seventeen,  in  1747,  at  the 
Theatre  of  Lucca,  as  prima  donna  in  Galuppi's  Sofonisha;  and 
La  Cuochetina,  as  she  was  called,  from  her  father's  profession, 
produced  a  frenzy  of  enthusiasm.  She  was  beautiful,  intelli- 
gent, ^I'itty,  and  full  of  liveliness  and  grace,  her  only  personal 
defect  being  a  slight  squint  perceptible  in  the  right  eye,  which, 
however,  had  the  effect  of  imparting  a  roguish,  piquant  expres- 
sion to  her  countenance;  and  she  was  an  excellent  actress. 
Though  of  low  stature,  as  sketched  by  Burney, "  there  was 
such  grace  and  dignity  in  licr  gestures  and  deportment  as 
caught  every  unprejudiced  eye;  indeed,  she  filled  the  stage, 
and  occupied  the  attention  of  the  spectators  so  much,  that  they 
could  look  at  nothing  else  while  she  was  in  view."  No  indi- 
cation of  her  mean  origin  betrayed  itself  in  her  face  or  figure, 
for  she  carried  herself  with  all  the  haughty  grandeur  of  a  Ro- 
man matron.  Her  voice,  though  not  powerful,  was  of  exqui- 
site quality  and  wonderful  extent,  its  compass  being  nearly  two 
octaves  and  a  half,  and  perfectly  equable  throughout.  Her  fa- 
cility in  vocalization  was  extraordinary ;  and  her  execution  is 
described  by  Dr.  Burney  as  rapid,  but  never  so  excessive  as  to 
cease  to  be  agreeable;  but  in  slow  movements  her  pathetic 
tones,  as  is  often  the  case  with  performers  renowned  for  "  dex- 
terity," were  not  sufiiciently  touching. 

No  sooner  had  she  appeared  than  her  fame  was  established, 
both  for  talent  and  for  beauty ;  the  young  cavaliers  of  Lucca 
spared  no  efibrts  to  gain  the  fovor  of  the  haughty,  capricious 
songstress,  who  laughed  at  all  alike,  and  kept  them  in  a  state 
of  mingled  vexation  and  admiration  by  her  whims  and  esjjie- 
gleries.  She  infinitely  preferred  her  theatrical  comrades  to 
even  the  greatest  lords  ;  and  toward  Guadagni,  with  whom 
she  sang  most  frequently,  she  testified  marked  favor,  and  he 
was  naturally  flattered  by  her  undisguised  preference.  Gua- 
dagni had  a  delightful  voice  and  irreproachable  taste,  and  his 
attitudes  Avere  so  full  of  grace  and  dignity  that  they  would 
have  been  "  excellent  studies  for  a  sculptor."  He  was  not  at 
all  jealous  of  Gabrielli's  talents,  but  gave  her  very  serviceable 
counsel. 

Her  reputation  extending,  she  was  invited  to  sing  by  all  the 
leading  managers  in  Italy.  She  I'csided  at  Naples  after  a  bril- 
liant tour,  living  there  in  great  splendor,  and  in  1750  she  ap- 


CATERINA    GABRIELLI.  73 

pe.ired  at  the  San  Carlo,  in  the  Bidone  of  Jomelli.  The  ex- 
quisite taste  with  which  she  sang  the  air  "  Son  regina  e  souo 
amante,"  established  forever  her  renown,  Metastasio  heard 
her,  and,  delighted  with  her  genius,  devoted  himself  to  finish 
her  musical  education,  especially  in  the  delivery  of  recitative. 
It  was  surmised  that  the  courtly,  impressionable  poet  was  not 
proof  against  the  manifold  charms  and  witcheries  of  his  lovely 
pupil ;  but  the  coquettish  vocalist  was  deaf  to  his  passion,  her 
worldly  heart  being  now  entirely  bent  on  making  a  conquest 
of  those  who  could  afford  to  gratify  her  desire  of  accumulating 
wealtho  Moreover,  Metastasio,  although  still  adored  by  the 
ladies  and  petted  by  kings  and  princes,  was  now  fifty-three, 
and  eternally  complained  of  his  nerves  and  his  ailments.  Ga- 
brielli  made  no  scruple  of  deceiving  the  grand  seigneurs  who, 
infatuated  by  her  wiles,  laid  the  most  superb  offerings  at  her 
feet.  She  received  their  gifts,  laughed  at  them,  and  coolly  dis- 
missed them  when  she  could  gain  nothing  more  ;  yet  many  of 
them,  for  the  mere  pleasure  of  exchanging  a  word  with  her, 
would  linarer  for  hours  in  her  antechamber. 

Francis  I.,  probably  at  the  instigation  of  Metastasio,  had  in- 
vited her  to  Vienna,  and  appointed  her  first  cantatrice  of  his 
court ;  and  during  her  residence  there  a  contretem/ps  occurred 
which  had  very  nearly  proved  fatal.  The  French  embassador 
paid  assiduous  court  to  her,  and  was  the  recipient  of  her  sun- 
niest smiles,  while  she  secretly  favored  the  Portuguese  embas- 
sador, whose  generosity  furnished  a  great  part  of  the  money 
which  surrounded  her  with  such  profuse  luxury.  At  length 
the  Frenchman,  suspecting  himself  to  be  betrayed,  resolved  to 
watch  her  conduct,  and  found  means  to  conceal  himself  in  her 
house.  He  had  not  waited  long  ere  he  beheld  his  rival  issue 
from  her  apartment,  when,  transported  with  jealous  rage,  he 
sprang  out  frantically,  and  made  a  thrust  at  her  with  his  ra- 
pier. Fortvinately,  the  fiishionable  whalebone  bodice  which 
she  wore  intercepted  the  thrust,  and  she  received  only  a  slight 
wound.  At  the  sight  of  her  blood  the  Frenchman  relented, 
and,  recalled  to  his  senses,  he  fell  on  his  knees  and  poured  forth 
a  torrent  of  self-reproaches,  and  entreaties  for  pardon  for  the 
outrage  of  which  he  had  been  guilty.  She  deigned  to  forgive 
him  on  condition  that  he  should  give  her  the  sword  with  which 
he  had  inflicted  the  wound,  her  intention  being  to  preserve  it 
as  a  trophy,  and  to  have  engraved  on  it  this  inscription :  "Epee 

D 


74  QUEENS    OP   SONG. 

de  M ,  qui  osa  frapper  la  Gabrielli."     The  embassador, 

justly  fearing  the  ridicule  which  would  be  cast  on  him  if  this 
idea  was  carried  into  effect,  flew  to  Metastasio,  and  besought 
him  to  intercede  in  his  behalf,  and  Gabrielli  was  prevailed  on 
to  relinquish  the  weapon.     Eortunately  for  the  repose  of  man- 
kind, as  Brydone,  in  his  Toui\  remarks,  the  faults  of  this  dan- 
gerous siren  were  so  very  apparent ;  for,  had  she  been  more 
perfect,  "  she  must  have  made  dreadful  havoc  in  the  world ; 
though,  with  all  her  deficiencies,"  he  says,  "  she  was  supposed 
to  have  achieved  more  conquests  than  any  one  woman  breath- 
ing."    Her  caprice  was  so  stubborn,  that  neither  interest,  nor 
threats,  nor  punishment  had  the  least  power  over  it :  she  her- 
self declared  that  she  could  not  command  it,  but  that  it  for  the 
most  j)art  commanded  her.     The  best  expedient  to  induce  her 
to  sing  when  she  was  in  a  bad  humor  was  to  j^revail  upon  her 
favorite  lover  to  place  himself  in  the  principal  seat  of  the  pit, 
or  the  front  of  a  box,  and,  if  they  were  on  good  terms — which 
was  seldom  the  case,  however — she  would  address  her  tender 
airs  to  him,  and  exert  herself  to  the  utmost.     When  Brydone 
was  in  Sicily,  her  lover  promised  to  give  him  an  example  of 
his  power  over  her.     "  He  took  his  seat  accordingly ;  but  Ga- 
brielli, probably  suspecting  the  connivance,  would  take  no  no- 
tice of  him ;  so  even  this  expedient  does  not  always  succeed." 
Gabrielli  quitted  Vienna  in  1765,  laden  with  riches,  and  went 
to  Sicily,  where  she  excited  the  same  enthusiasm,  and  exercised 
her  caprice,  regardless  of  consequences.     Her  insolence  knew 
no  bounds,  yet  no  one  dared  to  check  her.     She  demanded  and 
obtained  whatever  terms  she  chose,  and  sang  when,  where,  and 
how  she  pleased ;  sometimes  declining  to  sing  altogether,  or 
sending  her  sister  Francesca,  whom  she  retained  as  second 
singer,  to  perform  her  parts.     No  matter  with  whom  she  came 
in  contact,  she  compelled  them  to  give  way  to  her  Avhims.     On 
one  occasion,  the  Viceroy  of  Sicily  invited  her  to  dine  with 
him  and  with  some  of  the  highest  nobility  of  Palermo,  and  at 
the  appointed  time,  finding  she  did  not  make  her  appearance, 
the  viceroy  dispatched  a  servant  to  remind  her  of  her  promise. 
She  was  found  lounging  on  her  sofa  with  a  book  in  her  hand ; 
and  on  the  man  respectfully  presenting  his  message,  she  affect- 
ed to  have  entirely  forgotten  the  invitation — an  insult  which 
the  viceroy  was  at  first  inclined  to  pardon ;  but  when,  during 
the  opera,  she  acted  with  the  most  intolerable  negligence,  and 


CATEEINA   GABEIELLI.  ^5 

sang  all  the  airs  sotto  voce,  lie  was  so  indignant  that  he  threat- 
ened to  visit  her  Avith  some  token  of  his  displeasure.  This  did 
not  make  the  slightest  impression  on  the  stubborn  cautatrice. 
She  declared  that  she  might  be  forced  to  cry,  but  not  to  si?ig. 
The  viceroy,  exasperated  by  her  impudent  obstinacy,  at  length 
committed  her  to  prison  for  twelve  days.  She  gave  costly  en- 
tertainments, j)aid  all  the  debts  ofher  fellow-prisoners,  and  dis- 
tributed large  sums  among  the  indigent,  besides  singing  all  her 
best  songs  in  her  finest  style  every  day,  until  the  term  of  her 
detention  expired,  when  she  came  forth  amid  the  shouts  and 
rejoicings  of  the  grateful  poor  whom  she  had  benefited  while 
in  jail. 

Two  years  later,  in  17G7,  she  went  to  Naples,  where  she  re- 
ceived 2000  sequins  for  singing  during  the  Carnival.  From 
thence  she  went  to  Parma,  where  the  Infante  Don  Ferdinand 
saw  and  fell  desperately  in  love  with  her.  As  he  was  able  to 
gratify  her  extravagance,  she  was  unusually  complacent  to  him, 
despite  his  homely  person ;  but  she  was  so  annoyed  by  his  fits 
of  blind,  ungovernable  jealousy  that  they  were  rarely  at  peace. 
Scarcely  an  hour  passed  in  which  they  would  not  quarrel  and 
bandy  recriminations ;  he  accusing  her,  justly,  of  being  too 
gracious  to  his  rivals,  and  she  furiously  retorting.  Enraged  at 
her  conduct,  he  kept  her  once,  for  many  days,  shut  up  in  his 
house,  in  a  chamber  of  which  he  retained  the  key.  This  led 
naturally  to  farther  outbreaks  of  passion,  in  which  Gabrielli 
did  not  pause  to  measure  her  expressions.  At  last,  one  day, 
the  prince  being  jealous  of  an  English  nobleman,  they  had  a  ter- 
rible scene,  and  she  angrily  termed  him  a  "gobbo  maladetto" — 
''accui'sed  hunchback!"  Carried  beyond  himself  by  this,  and 
by  various  other  impertinences  of  which  she  was  guilty,  the  In- 
fante slammed  the  door  on  her,  locked  it,  placed  the  key  in  liis 
pocket,  and  walked  off.  lie  then  seized  upon  some  pretext 
for  throwing  her  into  prison ;  but,  on  entering  the  jail,  Gabriel- 
li was  astonished  to  find  an  apartment  furnished  with  the  ut- 
most magnificence,  and  a  number  of  servants  waiting  to  obey 
her  slightest  wish.  It  was  a  gallery  belonging  to  the  Infante, 
and  had  been  arranged  by  him  for  her  reception.  He  soon 
came  to  visit  her,  and  spai'cd  no  pains  to  make  his  peace ;  but 
Gabrielli,  who  was  piqued,  and  possessed  a  spirit  not  easily 
cowed,  as  soon  as  he  left  her,  coolly  opened  the  window  and 
made  her  exit  through  it,  scaled  the  walls  of  the  garden,  and 


76  QTJEEXS   OF   SONG. 

made  her  escape.  She  tlien  went  to  Russia,  where  Catharme 
II.  received  her  with  every  token  of  favor,  and  readily  engaged 
her.  But  when  the  terms  of  her  salary  came  to  be  discussed, 
the  fair  Italian  demanded  five  thousand  ducats.  "  Five  thou- 
sand ducats !"  repeated  the  empress,  in  amazement.  "  Why,  I 
do  not  give  more  than  that  to  one  of  my  field  marshals !" 
"  Very  well,"  replied  the  Gabrielli,  with  her  customary  non- 
chalance ;  "  your  majesty  may  get  your  field  marshals  to  sing 
for  you,"  This  audacious  reply  made  the  empress  laugh,  and, 
instead  of  dispatching  the  impertinent  cantatrice  to  exercise 
her  voice  in  the  clear  atmosphere  of  Siberia,  she  immediately 
granted  the  required  sum. 

The  beautiful  Italian  found  her  new  position  so  agreeable 
that  she  remained  for  three  years,  during  which  time  no  pecul- 
iarity of  individual  character,  national  manner,  or  court  eti- 
quette escaped  her  quick  observation.  At  the  termination  of 
her  engagement  she  quitted  Russia,  laden  with  diamonds,  a 
pocket-book  stufied  with  bank-notes,  and  a  revenue  of  20,000 
francs.  She  was  then  invited  to  England.  She  ought  at  this 
time  to  have  left  the  stage,  for  she  was  now  beginning  to  be 
somewhat  advanced  in  years,  and  her  rare  beauty  already  be- 
trayed the  influence  of  time ;  but  vanity  retained  her  on  the 
scene  of  her  former  triumphs.  At  first  she  did  not  deign  to 
accept  the  invitation  to  England :  "  I  should  not  be  mistress 
of  my  own  will,"  she  said,  "  and  whenever  I  might  have  a  fan- 
cy not  to  sing,  the  people  would  insult,  perhaps  misuse  me :  it 
is  better  to  remain  unmolested,  were  it  even  in  a  prison."  At 
this  period,  a  German  singer  named  Schindlei'in,  a  "  weak  and 
moderate  performer,"  was  the  leading  cantatrice  in  London, 
dividing  the  favor  of  the  town  with  Miss  Cecilia  Davies,  a  fair 
young  English  singer  of  growing  celebrity. 

At  last  the  Gabrielli  agreed  to  sing  in  Loudon,  bargaining 
that  her  favorite,  Signor  Manzoletto,  should  be  engaged  as  first 
male  singer.  Signor  Rauzzini,  the  successor  of  Millico,  was  in 
the  height  of  his  popularity  when  this  stipulation  was  made. 
Rauzzini  was  young  and  handsome,  had  an  agreeable  counte- 
nance, and  was  an  animated  actor,  with  a  sweet  though  not 
powerful  voice,  and  a  taste  at  once  elegant  and  scientific.  On 
her  way  to  England  in  1775,  Gabrielli  sang  at  Venice,  at  the 
Theatre  S.  Benedetto,  with  the  celebrated  Pacchierotti.  She 
had  the  reputation  of  eclipsing  all  who  sang  with  her.    This 


CATERINA   GABKIELLI.  77 

Pacchierotti  knew ;  and,  although  he  was  as  great  a  fovorite 
as  his  far-famed  countryman,  Farinelli,  had  been,  he  "gave  him- 
self up  for  lost"  when  he  heard  her.  She  executed  an  aria  di 
h'avura  in  a  style  so  astonishing  that,  when  it  Avas  half  over, 
the  unlucky  signor  "  burst  out  crying,"  and  ran  behind  the 
scenes,  lamenting  that  he  had  dared  to  appear  on  the  same 
stage  with  so  wonderful  a  vocalist,  wlierc  his  talents  must  not 
only  be  lost,  but  where  he  must  ever  be  accused  of  presumption, 
which  he  hoj)ed  was  foreign  to  his  character.  "  Povero  me !" 
he  cried,  in  despair.  "  Povero  rae !  questo  e  un  portento !" 
"  Unfortunate  that  I  am !  Here  is  a  prodigy."  She  was  then 
forty-seven  years  of  age.  It  was  with  some  difficulty  that  he 
could  be  prevailed  on  to  appear  again ;  but,  finding  himself 
much  applauded,  he  regained  his  courage,  and  in  singing  a  ten- 
der air,  addressed  to  Gabrielli  in  the  character  of  her  lover, 
deeply  touched  the  imperious  prima  donna,  while  the  audience 
were  melted  to  tears. 

From  whatever  cause  it  might  be,  the  fair  Gabrielli,  whose  • 
fame  as  a  beauty,  a  coquette,  and  a  singer  had  preceded  her, 
did  not  take  the  Loudon  world  by  storm,  nor  were  the  young 
bloods  and  bucks  ready  to  fight  for  her  smiles  after  the  fash- 
ion of  their  compeers  in  the  Continental  cities  which  rang  with 
her  conquests.  She  was  lazy  and  insolent,  and  would  not  take 
the  smallest  trouble  to  please  the  fostidious  London  audience; 
sometimes  choosing  to  be  indisposed  on  nights  when  she  ought 
to  have  especially  roused  her  best  energies,  and  throwing  up 
her  parts  to  her  sister  Francesca,  whom  she  carried  about  with 
her  to  act  as  seconda  donna,  and  occasionally  as  her  double. 
The  operas  in  which  she  appeared  during  her  stay  in  London 
were  Didone,  by  Sacchini ;  Cajo  Ilario,  by  Piccini ;  and  Za 
Vestale,  by  Vento.  The  only  criticism  of  her  performance  ex- 
tant is  by  Lord  Mount  Edgecumbe,  who  saw  her  in  the  opera 
oi  Dldone;  but  he  avows  honestly  that  he  could  say  nothing 
more  of  her  acting  than  tliat  she  took  the  greatest  possible 
care  of  her  enormous  hoop  as  she  sidled  into  the  flames  of 
Carthage. 

Brydone  endeavors  to  excuse  her  apparent  caprice  and  su- 
pineness  on  grounds  Avhich  are  to  a  certain  degree  tenable. 
He  alleged  that  she  really  was  not  always  able  to  sing,  and 
that  it  Avas  not  an  invajiable  rule  that  caprice  alone  prevented 
her  gratifying  her  audience.     "And  this,  indeed,"  says  Bry- 


V8 


QUEENS    OP   SONG. 


done,  "I  can  readily  believe;  for  that  wonderful  flexibility  of 
voice  that  runs  with  such  rapidity  and  neatness  through  the 
most  minute  divisions,  and  produces  almost  instantaneously  so 
gi'eat  a  variety  of  modulation,  must  surely  depend  on  the  very 
nicest  tones  of  the  fibres ;  and  if  these  are  in  the  smallest  de- 
gree relaxed,  or  their  elasticity  diminished,  how  is  it  possible 
that  their  contractions  and  expansions  can  so  readily  obey  the 
will  as  to  produce  these  effects  ?  The  opening  of  the  glottis 
which  forms  the  voice  is  so  extremely  small,  and  in  every  va- 
riety of  tone  its  diameter  must  suffer  a  sensible  change ;  for 
the  same  diameter  must  ever  produce  the  same  tone,  So  loon- 
derfulhj  minute  are  its  contractions  and  dilatations,  that  Dr. 
Kiel,  I  think,  computed  that  in  some  voices  its  opening,  not 
more  than  the  tenth  of  an  inch,  is  divided  into  upward  of  1200 
parts,  the  different  sound  of  every  one  of  which  is  perceptible 
to  the  exact  ear.  Now  what  a  nice  tension  of  fibres  must  this 
require !  I  should  imagine  even  the  most  minute  change  in 
the  air  causes  a  sensible  difference,  and  that  in  our  foggy  cli- 
mate fibres  would  be  in  danger  of  losing  this  wonderful  sensi- 
bility, or,  at  least,  that  they  would  very  often  be  put  out  of 
tune.  It  is  not  the  same  ca^e  with  an  ordinary  voice,  where 
the  variety  of  divisions  run  through  and  the  volubility  with 
which  they  are  executed  bear  no  proportion  to  that  of  a  Ga- 
brielli." 

Hurt  by  the  slight  appreciation  of  her  talents  in  England, 
by  that  want  of  consideration  which  made  an  unfeeling  jiublic 
grumble  whenever  she  chose  to  sing  badly  or  not  sing  at  all, 
and  by  the  imperturbability  of  audiences  who  met  coolness 
and  impudence  with  disdain  and  indignation,  Gabrielli  quitted 
this  country  after  a  very  brief  stay.  She  was  replaced  by  a 
singer  named  Anna  Pozzi,  a  fine,  handsome  girl,  with  a  bril- 
liantly clear  voice,  but  who  was  so  unformed,  both  as  a  singer 
and  an  actress,  that  she  totally  failed.  Miss  Cecilia  Davies 
then  ascended  the  vacant  lyric  throne. 

Gabrielli  withdrew  in  1777  to  Rome,  where  she  renewed  a 
favorable  impression  notwithstanding  her  age,  for  she  was  now 
bordering  on  fifty.  In  1779  she  was  at  Naples;  and  in  1780 
she  went  to  Milan,  where  she  sang  with  Marchesi.  In  the 
same  year  she  retired  with  her  sister  Francesca  to  Rome, 
where  she  led  a  very  regular  life,  giving  concerts  frequently, 
though  she  sang  rarely.     The  Roman  noblesse  of  both  sexes 


CATEEIXA   GABKIELLI.  "79 

held  her  in  high  esteem,  and  visited  her  constautly.  At  this 
time,  by  her  reckless  prodigality,  she  had  considerably  reduced 
her  income,  having  now  but  20,000  francs  a  year,  a  sum  far 
from  adequate  to  her  expenditure.  She  had  lived  and  tr,aveled 
with  a  splendor  more  suited  to  a  royal  princess  than  an  artiste 
who  had  to  exist  by  her  own  exertions,  always  having  many 
domestics  in  her  suite  and  a  courier  who  preceded  her ;  and  at 
home,  as  at  the  theatre,  she  maintained  the  state  of  a  queen. 
One  day  a  Florentine  nobleman  came  to  pay  her  a  visit,  and 
by  some  accident  one  of  his  fine  lace  ruffles  caught  in  a  pin 
which  fastened  some  portion  of  the  Gabi'ielli's  dress,  and  was 
torn.  Gabrielli,  to  make  amends  for  an  accident  of  which  she 
was  partially  the  cause,  sent  him,  the  next  day,  six  bottles  of 
Spanish  wine,  and  in  place  of  corks  she  had  them  stopped  with 
pieces  of  the  most  costly  Flanders  lace.  However,  despite  her 
extravagance,  Gabrielli  had  a  good  heart.  She  gave  largely  in 
charity,  and  never  forgot  her  parents ;  she  also  defrayed  the 
expenses  of  her  brother's  education,  though  unhappily  he  prof- 
ited little  by  the  trouble  taken  with  him.  He  attempted  at  one 
time  to  come  out  at  the  Teatro  Argentina  as  a  tenor,  but  his 
effort  was  remarkable  only  for  its  non-success.  He  had  scarce- 
ly got  through  five  bars  of  his  first  song  when  the  audience 
began  to  hiss  and  hoot  him  ;  and  very  deservedly,  for  his  sing- 
ing was  as  execrable  as  his  sister  Gabrielli's  was  faultless. 
Cries  arose  of  "  Get  away,  you  raven  !"  The  signor  stepj^ed 
forward  with  the  family  sang-froid,  and,  addressing  the  audi- 
ence, said,  "  You  fancy  you  are  mortifying  me  by  hooting  me ; 
you  are  grossly  deceived ;  on  the  contrary,  I  applaud  your 
judgment,  for  I  solemnly  declare  to  you  that  I  never  appear 
on  any  stage  without  receiving  the  same  treatment,  and  some- 
times much  worse !"  An  exj^losion  of  laughter  followed  this 
oration,  but  it  did  not  procure  a  second  apjjearancc  for  the 
poor  fellow. 

Having  by  degrees  lost  both  voice  and  beauty,  Gabrielli  re- 
tired finally  in  1780  to  Bologna,  where  she  died  in  April,  1796, 
at  the  age  of  sixty-six. 


80  QUEENS    OF   SONG. 


CHAPTER  Vni. 

SOPHIE     AENOULD. 

In  the  Rue  de  Bethisy,  Paris,  stands  one  of  those  tall,  old- 
fashioned  houses,  so  familiar  to  the  readers  of  Balzac  and  Du- 
mas. It  was  originally  the  Hotel  Ponthieu,  and  belonged  to 
Admiral  Coligny ;  but  iu  the  middle  of  the  last  century  it  fell 
into  the  hands  of  a  man  named  Arnould,  Avho  converted  it 
into  an  hotel  garni^  under  the  designation  of  the  Hotel  de  Cha- 
tillon. 

In  the  very  room  where  the  unfortunate  admiral  was  mur- 
dered, there  was  born,  on  the  14th  of  February,  1744,  a  child 
who,  some  few  years  later,  became  the  boast  of  the  operatic 
stao-e  in  France.  The  child  was  christened  Anne  Madeleine. 
M.  and  Madame  Arnould  had  three  boys  and  one  other  girl, 
but  Anne  was  so  pretty,  and  had  such  a  lovely  voice  and  pun- 
gent wit,  that  they  resolved  to  train  her  with  esj)ecial  care,  and 
she  had  masters  for  music  and  dancing.  Anne  was  fully  con- 
scious of  the  value  of  her  own  gifts.  "We  shall  be  as  rich  as 
princes,"  the  pert  puss  would  say,  exultingly.  "A  good  fairy 
has  given  me  a  talisman  to  transform  every  thing  into  gold 
and  diamonds  at  the  sound  of  my  voice." 

Accident  brought  her  talent  to  light.  It  was  then  the  fash- 
ion  for  ladies,  after  confessing  their  sins  in  Passion  Week,  to  re- 
tire for  some  days  to  a  religious  house,  there  to  expiate  by  fast- 
ing the  faults  and  misdemeanors  committed  during  the  gaye- 
ties  of  the  Carnival.  It  chanced  that  when  Anne  was  about 
twelve  years  old,  the  Princess  de  Modena  retired  to  the  con- 
vent of  Val-de-Grace,  and  in  attending  vespers  heard  one  voice 
which,  for  power  and  purity,  she  thought  had  never  been  sur- 
jjassed.  Fine  voices  were  at  a  premium  then  in  France,  and 
the  princess  at  once  decided  that  she  had  discovered  a  treas- 
ure. She  inquired  who  was  the  owner  of  this  exquisite  organ, 
and  Avas  informed  that  it  was  little  Anne  Arnould.  The  prin- 
cess sent  for  the  child,  who  came  readily,  and  was  not  in  the 
least  abashed  by  the  presence  of  the  great  lady,  but  sang  like 


SOPHIE   ARNOULD.  81 

a  nightingale,  and  chattered  like  a  magpie.  The  princess,  de- 
lighted with  her  beauty,  and  her  quick,  audacious  wit,  clasped 
a  valuable  necklace  round  her  white  throat.  "  Come,  my  love- 
ly child,"  she  said,  as  she  dismissed  her,  "  you  sing  like  an  an- 
gel, and  you  have  more  wit  than  an  angel.  Your  fortune  is 
made." 

On  returning  to  court,  the  Princess  de  Modena  could  speak 
of  nothing  but  the  little  warbler.  She  ran  into  the  most  rap- 
turous praises  of  her  voice,  her  wit,  her  beauty.  She  told  M. 
de  Fondpertuis,  the  iutendant  of  the  royal  chapel,  of  the  prize 
she  had  discovered.  He  immediately  went  to  see  Madame 
Arnould,  and  then  went  to  hear  the  child  sing  at  the  convent. 
The  result  of  these  two  visits  was  that  Anne  was  sent  for  to 
sing  at  the  king's  chapel.  Her  mother,  being  pious  and  do- 
mestic in  her  tastes,  was  startled  at  the  idea  of  trusting  her 
young  daughter  within  the  limits  of  the  dissipated  circle  which 
formed  the  court,  and  objected  to  the  proposition ;  but  her 
just  prejudices  were  very  soon  overruled.  The  beautiful  Pom- 
padour heard  Anne  sing  at  the  chapel.  "Ah  !"  said  sl»e,  sen- 
timentally, "  with  such  a  talent  she  might  become  a  princess." 
This  remark  decided  the  future  fate  of  Anne,  being  equivalent 
to  an  order  for  the  debut  of  the  pretty  vocalist. 

Louis  Francoeur,  director  of  music  at  the  Opera,  was  anxious 
that  the  young  nightingale  should  appear  at  his  theatre.  "  Ev- 
ery heart  in  France  would  beat  at  her  divine  voice,"  he  said. 
Anne,  child  as  she  was,  knew  the  dangers  of  the  path  which 
she  was  invited  to  enter.  "To  go  to  the  Opera,"  said  she, 
shrugging  her  pretty  shoulders,  "is  to  go  to  the  devil;  but 
what  matter?  It  is  my  destiny."  Poor  Madame  Arnould 
shuddered,  then  scolded.  "  It  is  not  for  the  Opera,  but  for  the 
convent  that  you  are  destined,"  she  would  say,  angrily.  And 
then  she  shut  her  up  in  her  room.  Tlie  king  settled  the  mat- 
ter by  signing  the  paper  which  carried  the  child — she  was  only 
thirteen — to  the  Opera.  Madame  Arnould  dared  not  oppose 
the  royal  authority. 

Anne  was  placed  with  the  famous  tragedienne,  Mdllc.  Clai- 
ron,  to  learn  acting,  while  the  prima  donna  Mdlle.  Fcl  was  en- 
gaged to  teach  her  singing;  the  consequence  of  this  arrange- 
ment was,  that  she  became  a  superb  actress  and  but  an  indif- 
ferent singer.  Anne  now  discarded  her  own  name  for  the 
softer  one  of  Sophie,  though  she  always  continued  to  celebrate 
6  D2 


82  QUEENS   OF   SONG. 

her  fete-day  on  that  of  St.  Anne.  She  first  aj^pearecl  at  the 
Opera  December  15th,  1*757.  She  acted  well,  and  sang  very 
nicely ;  her  beauty  carried  the  audience  by  stonn,  and  though 
in  reality  she  had  scarcely  any  voice  at  all,  people  imagined 
that  such  singing  had  never  been  heard  before.  She  looked 
most  captivating,  dressed  in  a  lilac  robe  embroidered  with  sil- 
ver, which  seems  to  have  been  the  chief  thing  the  critics 
thought  of,  as  they  omitted  to  say  in  what  piece  she  appeared. 

A  fortnight  after  her  debut  her  name  was  in  every  body's 
mouth.  Her  genius,  her  beauty,  her  power,  her  magnificent 
eyes,  her  incomparable  grace,  her  bewitching  vivacity,  were 
rapturously  descanted  on.  She  had,  in  truth,  much  expression, 
energy,  dramatic  intelligence,  and  great  majesty  of  demeanor, 
while  her  faults  were  those  of  the  detestable  school  in  which 
she  was  trained.  The  Opera  was  besieged  whenever  her  name 
was  announced.  "  I  doubt,"  said  Freron,  speaking  of  the 
crowds  which  waited  patiently  for  the  chance  of  hearing  the 
lovely  debutante,  "  I  doubt  if  they  would  take  so  much  trouble 
to  get  into  Paradise,"  All  the  gentlemen  of  the  time  contest- 
ed for  the  honor  of  throwing  bouquets  at  her  feet ;  and  she 
passed  on  to  the  stage  with  as  much  nonchalance  as  if  she  had 
been  for  twenty  years  Queen  of  the  Opera. 

Poor  Madame  Arnould  was  obliged  to  content  herself  with 
accompanying  her  daughter  behind  the  scenes,  and  frowning 
on  the  voungf  roues  who  fluttered  round  the  new  star;  for, 
once  received  at  the  Opera,  a  girl  could  no  longer  be  claimed 
by  father  or  mother.  Sophie  walked  on  roses.  "  Yes,"  said 
Madame  Arnould,  bitterly,  to  her  child's  admirers,  "but  do  not 
strew  thorns  in  her  path."  It  became  a  matter  for  jesting  and 
bettincf  as  to  who  should  be  the  first  to  fix  the  attention  of  the 
brilliant  young  actress.  Among  her  most  frantic  adorers  was 
a  young  nobleman  named  Lauraguais,  a  handsome,  dashing 
young  fellow,  full  of  wit  and  daring,  and  a  great  favorite  with 
the  ladies ;  he  had  already  almost  run  through  a  superb  for- 
tune, and  could  write  plays  of  no  great  merit.  He  was  a  mem- 
ber of  the  Academic  des  Sciences,  and  enjoyed  lounging  in 
fashionable  saloons  and  behind  the  scenes  at  the  Opera.  Lau- 
raguais had  the  temerity  to  attempt  to  carry  off  the  young- 
beauty,  but,  the  enterprise  failing,  he  had  recourse  to  another 
expedient.  One  evening,  supping  with  some  friends,  the  con- 
versation turned  naturally  on  the  star  which  had  just  risen,  and 


SOPHIE  AENOULD.  83 

much  cruel  laughter  was  indulged  in  at  the  expense  of  the 
fond  mother.  The  count  laughed,  and,  filling  his  glass,  oflfercd 
to'  bet  that  before  fifteen  days  were  out  Madame  Arnould 
would  no  longer  attend  her  daughter  to  the  Opera.  The  wa- 
ger was  laid  amid  much  merriment  and  jingling  of  glasses. 
The  next  day  a  distinguished-looking  young  man,  with  grace- 
ful manners  and  an  air  of  modesty,  presented  himself  at  the 
Hotel  de  Chatillon,  where  he  engaged  a  room,  and,  being  flu- 
ent in  conversation  and  apparently  a  stranger  in  Pai'is,  soon 
became  acquainted  with  his  landlady.  He  said  his  name  was 
Dorval,  and  that  he  had  just  come  up  from  the  country  to  try 
if  the  managers  would  accept  a  tragedy  which  he  had  written. 
He  had  an  insidious  tongue,  and  Madame  Arnould  was  not 
entirely  free  from  the  feminine  tendency  to  like  compliments, 
and  he  began  to  make  love  to  Sophie  before  her  mother's 
eyes. 

Sophie's  imagination  had  taken  a  romantic  turn  from  read- 
ing the  history  of  Madame  de  Montbazon  and  the  Chevalier 
de  Ranee,  which  she  had  studied  till  she  knew  it  by  heart ;  in- 
deed, many  of  her  best  bons  mots  were  taken  from  that  edify- 
ing work.  She  was  accustomed  to  the  open  adulations  of  the 
young  fops  who  crowded  round  her  at  the  Opera,  yet  she  lis- 
tened with  a  singular  pleasure  to  the  tender  flatteries  of  the 
young  provincial  poet.  The  little  drama  of  intrigue  had  a  sad 
finale,  for  one  fine  frosty  evening  tlie  young  singer  and  the 
poet  from  the  provinces  disappeared.  The  coimt  won  his 
wager.  Madame  Arnould  no  longer  accompanied  her  daugh- 
ter to  the  Opera. 

Sophie,  finding  herself  at  liberty,  began  to  give  the  rein  to 
her  extravagant  fancy.  Her  house,  the  Hotel  Rambouillet,  was 
like  a  fairy  palace.  She  shone  at  the  Opera  by  her  grace,  her 
talent,  her  beauty,  and  in  the  "  green-room"  of  the  Opera  she 
was  surrounded  by  the  grand  seigneurs,  ministers,  diplomats, 
soldiers,  poets,  artists,  rich  financiers — all  the  men  of  wit  and 
wealth  who  thronged  thither.  She  could  readily  maintain  a 
running  fire  of  sarcasms  with  the  pungent  Helvetius,  exchange 
canons  of  taste  with  the  elegant  and  musical  Due  de  Niver- 
nais,  and  bandy  jests  Avitli  Panard,  most  facetious  of  vaudevil- 
hstes.  At  home  her  Avit  drew  round  her  the  first  men  of  tlie 
day:  she  held  a  little  court,  of  wliich  she  was  the  reigning 
sovereign,  and  her  salon,  Avhich  was  a  museum  of  elegant  and 


84  QTJEENS    OF   SONG. 

curious  things,  was  always  crowded  by  men  of  the  highest 
distinction. 

There  might  be  seen  D'Alembert,  the  learned  and  scholarly, 
rough  and  independent  in  manner,  who  deserted  the  drawing- 
rooms  of  the  great  for  saloons  where  he  could  move  at  his 
ease.  There,  also,  Diderot  would  often  delight  his  circle  of 
admirers  by  the  fluency  and  richness  of  his  conversation,  his 
friends  extolling  his  disinterestedness  and  honesty,  his  enemies 
whispering  about  his  cunning  and  selfishness.  The  novelist 
Duclos,  with  his  keen  power  of  penetrating  human  character, 
would  move  leisurely  through  the  throng,  picking  up  material 
for  his  romances  ;  and  Mably  would  talk  politics  and  drop  ill- 
natured  remarks.  The  learned  metaphysician  Helvetius,  too, 
was  often  there,  seeking  for  compliments,  his  appetite  for  ap- 
plause being  voracious :  so  insatiable,  indeed,  that  he  even 
danced  one  night  at  the  Opera.  It  was  said  that  he  was  led 
to  study  mathematics  by  seeing  a  circle  of  beautiful  ladies  sur- 
rounding the  ugly  geometrician  Maupertuis  in  the  gardens  of 
the  Tuileries.  Dorat,  who  wasted  his  time  in  writing  bad 
tragedies,  and  his  property  in  publishing  them ;  the  gay,  good- 
hearted  Marmontel;  Bernard  —  called  by  Voltaire  le  gentil — 
who  wrote  the  libretto  of  Castor  et  JPolhtx,  esteemed  for  years 
a  masterpiece  of  lyric  poetry;  Rameau,  the  popular  composer, 
in  wliose  pieces  Sophie  always  aj^peared,  and  Fraucoeur,  the 
leader  of  the  orchestra,  were  also  among  her  guests.  J.  J. 
Rousseau  was  the  great  lion,  courted  and  petted  by  all.  When 
Benjamin  Franklin  arrived  in  Paris,  where  he  was  received 
with  unbounded  hospitality  by  the  most  distinguished  of 
French  society,  he  confessed  that  nowhere  did  he  find  such 
pleasure,  such  wit,  such  brilliancy,  as  in  the  salon  of  Mdlle. 
Arnould.  M.  Andre  de  Murville  was  one  of  the  more  note- 
worthy men  of  wit  who  attended  her  soirees,  and  he  became 
so  madly  in  lo-ve  with  her  that  he  offered  her  his  hand ;  but 
she  cared  very  little  about  him.  One  day  he  told  her  that  if 
he  were  not  in  the  Academic  within  thirty  years  he  would 
blow  out  his  brains.  She  looked  steadily  at  him,  and  then 
smiling  sarcastically,  said,  "  I  thought  you  had  done  that  long 


ago 


5> 


Poets  sang  her  praises ;  painters  eagerly  desired  to  transfer 
her  exquisite  lineaments  to  canvas.  All  this  flattery  intoxi- 
cated her.     She  wished  to  be  classed  with  Ninon,  Lais,  and 


SOPHIE   AENOULD.  85 

Aspasia,  and  did  not  disguise  the  delight  she  felt  at  being  im- 
mortalized in  the  verses  of  Dorat,  Bernard,  Rbulieres,  Mar- 
montel,  and  Favart.  She  was  very  good-natured,  yet  some- 
times almost  spiteful  if  an  occasion  for  a  jest  presented  itself. 
Seeing  Bernard  one  day  buried  in  reflection,  "  What  are  you 
thinking  of?"  she  playfully  asked.  "  I  was  talking  to  myself," 
replied  he.  "Take  care,"  she  said,  with  a  warning  look,  "you 
gossip  with  a  flatterer."  x\nother  day  she  met  a  doctor  of  her 
acquaintance  with  a  gun  under  his  arm,  on  his  way  to  see  a 
patient.  "  Ah !  doctor,"  she  said,  "  you  are  afraid  of  your  or- 
dinary resources  failing."  Her  repartees  were  in  every  mouth 
from  Paris  to  Versailles ;  though  it  is  true  that  many  of  the 
piquant  jests  of  the  Demoiselles  Carton,  Clairon,  and  others 
were  often  attributed  to  her,  and  collections  of  her  smart  say- 
ings were  published. 

The  Comte  de  Lauraguais  remained  always  passionately  at- 
tached to  her,  but  he  wearied  his  beloved  Sophie  by  his  furious 
outbursts  of  jealousy.  She  took  no  pains  to  avoid  giving  him 
occasion  for  his  fits  of  passion,  yet  that  did  not  make  her  feel 
them  acutely,  and  he,  in  turn,  annoyed  her  by  his  gallantries. 
He  fell  in  love  with  Mdlle.  Robbe,  one  of  the  members  .of  the 
operatic  corps,  and  Sophie  resolved  to  give  him  a  quiet  hint 
that  she  knew  and  disapproved  of  his  passion  for  this  pretty 
fair  one.  One  day  she  contrived  that  he  should  discover  her 
tete-drtete  with  a  Knight  of  Malta,  when  he  broke  into  a  storm 
of  reproaches.  "You  are  unjust,"  retorted  Sophie.  "This 
gentleman  is  only  fulfilling  his  vow  as  Knight  of  Malta  in 
making  Avar  upon  an  infidel  {injidele).''^  Still,  she  loved  him 
tenderly,  and  for  four  years  remained  faithful  to  him ;  till  at 
last,  tired  of  his  constantly  recurring  fits  of  jealousy,  she  only 
waited  an  opportunity  of  getting  rid  of  him. 

The  count  was  about  to  visit  Geneva  to  consult  Voltaire  on 
a  tragedy,  entitled  Electre^  which  he  had  written.  Sophie  or- 
dered her  carriage  to  the  door,  and  had  it  filled  with  the  ecrins^ 
laces,  and  other  superb  gifts  which  the  count  had  lavished  on 
her,  and  she  had  her  two  children  packed  in  with  the  rest  of 
the  property.  The  carriage,  with  its  contents,  was  driven  to 
the  Hotel  de  Lauraguais.  The  countess,  who  received  the 
message,  her  husband  being  from  home,  accepted  the  charge 
of  the  children,  but  sent  back  the  carriage,  jewelry,  and  laces. 

Being  rather  frightened  at  the  idea  of  the  scenes  which 


86  QUEENS   OE   SONG. 

must  ensue  when  the  count  should  return,  Sophie  entreated 
the  protection  of  the  Comte  de  Florentin.  Lauraguais  was 
thrown  into  a  state  of  the  deepest  misery  by  her  unkind  treat- 
ment ;  but,  being  at  last  somewhat  calmed,  he  asked  her  to 
grant  him  a  farewell  interview,  in  order  that  they  might  come 
to  some  amicable  arrangement.  She  received  him  very  civilly, 
and  he  behaved  discreetly,  as  he  had  promised,  and  proposed 
to  bestow  on  her  for  life  a  pension  of  2000  crowns.  Sophie 
declined  to  receive  any  thing  from  him ;  and  the  countess  in- 
terposed, Griselda-fashion,  begging  her  not  to  refuse  what  she 
desired ;  adding  that  Sophie  need  be  under  no  uneasiness  re- 
garding the  children,  as  she  would  take  as  much  care  of  them 
as  if  they  were  her  own.  Sophie  could  not  refuse  an  oifer  so 
generously  urged,  and  sent  M.  Bertin  (of  the  Academic  des 
Belles-Lettres)  to  arrange  with  M.  de  Lauraguais. 

She  appeared  in  all  Rameau's  operas,  and  acquitted  herself 
to  the  ever-increasing  delight  of  her  audience. 

Her  most  popular  character  for  a  long  time  was  Iphise,  in 
Dardanus,  "created"  by  Mdlle.  Pelissier  in  1739.  She  per- 
formed to  the  satisfaction  even  of  Rameau,  who  thought  a 
goodiieal  of  himself.  He  was  vain  of  his  facility  in  adapting 
words  to  music,  and  boasted  that  he  would  set  a  Dutch  ga- 
zette if  it  was  required  of  him. 

Sophie  Arnould  always  gave  her  wit  full  play,  sparing  no 
one,  utterly  careless  of  the  feelings  of  others,  and  never  losing 
a  jest  even  for  the  sake  of  decorum.  One  evening  in  1766, 
she  was  present  at  a  representation  of  La  Mierre's  tragedy  of 
Guillaume  Tell^  and  observing  that  the  actors  outnumbered 
the  audience,  she  turned  to  some  one  who  accompanied  her 
and  said, "  They  say  usually  '  no  penny,  no  paternoster ;'  but 
here  they  give  a  great  deal  of  paternoster,  and  there  are  no 
pence  at  all."  Some  one  showing  her  a  snuff-box  on  which 
were  painted  the  portraits  of  Sully  and  the  Due  de  Choiseul, 
she  smiled  wickedly,  and  said,  "  Debit  and  credit."  Seeing  an 
actress  who  was  very  thin,  she  remarked,  "  II  n'est  pas  neces- 
saire  d'aller  a  Saint  Cloud  pour  voir  jouer  les  eaux  (les  os)." 
Hearing  one  day  that  a  capucliin  had  been  devoured  by  wolves, 
"  Poor  beasts,"  said  Sophie,  compassionately,  "  hunger  must  be 
a  dreadful  thing."  A  lady,  who  was  equally  remarkable  for 
her  beauty  and  her  silliness,  complaining  to  her  of  the  annoy- 
ances to  which  she  was  subjected  by  the  persistency  of  her 


SOPHIE   AKKOULD.  87 

lovers,  Sophie  told  her  she  knew  a  way  by  which  she  could 
easily  rid  herself  of  their  importuuities.  The  lady  besought 
her  to  mention  it.  "  You  have  only  to  open  your  mouth  and 
speak,"  was  the  reply.  The  ballet  "  Des  Diables"  for  some 
time  went  all  wrong  in  Castor  et  Pollux^  the  performers  danc- 
ing tout  de  travers.  Sophie  said  that  they  were  so  troubled 
by  the  arrival  of  M.  le  Due  de  la  Vanguyon  that  their  heads 
were  completely  turned.  A  coxcomb,  wishing  to  annoy  her, 
said  one  day, "  Oh,  nowadays  wit  runs  in  the  streets."  "  Per- 
haps some  of  the  fools  will  try  to  run  after  it,"  she  answered. 

In  November,  1V69,  Sophie's  want  of  respect  for  Madame 
du  Barry,  at  Fontainebleau,  drew  on  her  the  serious  displeas- 
ure of  the  king,  who  ordered  that  she  should  be  imprisoned  for 
six  months  at  I'Hupital.  Fortunately,  this  order  was  given 
merely  to  end  the  squabble,  and  to  frighten  her ;  but  her  com- 
rades took  advantage  of  it  to  torment  her,  and  whenever  she 
appeared  among  them  they  would  laugh  significantly,  and  ut- 
ter the  word  "  I'Hupital."  At  last  she  was  so  enraged  that 
she  flung  up  her  engagement  in  a  huft",  and  retired  with  a  pen- 
sion of  2000  francs  and  a  splendid  fortune.  Two  or  three  oc- 
currences at  this  time  made  her  quit  the  theatre  in  disgust. 
Some  people,  the  moment  she  was  under  a  cloud,  pretended  to 
discover  that  she  had  no  voice,  and  that  she  had  literally  noth- 
ing but  her  beauty  and  good  acting  to  recommend  her.  The 
Abbe  Galiani  being  present  one  day  at  one  of  the  court  per- 
formances, and  every  one  round  him  exclaiming  in  ecstasies  on 
the  voice  of  Mdlle.  Arnould,  they  eagerly  asked  his  opinion. 
He  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  said,  "  It  is  the  finest  asthma 
I  ever  heard." 

But  she  could  not  long  stay  away  from  the  stage ;  so  she 
returned  with  almost  as  much  precipitation  as  she  had  left. 

When  Gliick  Avas  brought  to  Paris  by  the  then  dauphiness, 
the  unfortunate  Marie  Antoinette,  who  had  been  his  pupil  and 
patroness  when  she  was  an  Austrian  archduchess,  Sophie  Ar- 
nould had  the  great  honor  of  appearing  in  the  characters  of 
the  heroines  of  his  operas,  Iphigenie  en  Aulide^  Orphce^  and 
Alceste;  and  she  acquitted  herself  not  only  to  the  satisfaction 
of  the  public,  but  of  the  great  composer  himself.  This  at  first 
seems  strange,  when  her  very  moderate  vocal  powers  are  con- 
sidered ;  but  Gliick's  music  is  easy  of  execution,  while  it  is  pre- 
eminently dramatic,  and  Sophie  Arnould's  talents  as  an  actress 


88  QUEENS    OF    SONG. 

niacle  up  iu  these,  as  in  nil  ber  otlier  peiTormances,  for  Lev  de- 
ficiencies as  a  singer.  But  when  Gliick's  Armide  was  pro- 
duced in  1778,  the  principal  character  was  giv«n  to  Sophie's 
rival,  Mdlle.  Levasseur.  Sophie,  incensed  beyond  expression, 
at  once  quitted  the  theatre.  She  was  not  regretted,  for  her 
sarcasms  and  spiteful  epigrams  had  raised  enemies  among 
her  former  comrades  ;  nor  was  she  missed  by  the  public,  who 
had  latterly  hissed  her  frequently  when  she  appeared  on  the 
stage. 

For  a  time  she  lived  in  a  lodging  which  overlooked  the  gar- 
dens of  the  Palais  Royal.  She  was  full  of  freaks  as  ever,  and 
still  maintained  her  old  hospitality.  Some  of  her  jokes  were 
really  silly  enough.  One  evening  in  1780  she  gave  a  grand 
supper,  to  which,  among  others,  she  invited  M.  Barthe,  author 
of  Zes  Fausses  Infidelites^  and  many  similar  pieces.  He  was 
inflated  Avith  vanity,  though  he  was  totally  ignorant  of  every 
thing  away  from  the  theatre,  and  was,  in  fact,  one  of  those  in- 
dividuals who  actually  seem  to  court  mystification  and  prac- 
tical jokes.  Mdlle.  Arnould  instructed  her  servant  Jeannot, 
and  had  him  announced  pompously  under  the  title  of  the 
Chevalier  de  Medicis,  giving  M.  Barthe  to  understand  that  the 
young  man  was  an  illegitimate  son  of  the  house  of  De  Medicis. 
The  pretended  nobleman  appeared  to  be  treated  with  respect 
and  distinction  by  the  company,  and  he  spoke  to  the  poet  with 
much  afiability,  professing  much  admiration  for  his  works. 
M.  Barthe  was  enchanted.  He  was  in  a  flutter  of  gratified 
vanity,  and,  to  show  his  delight  at  the  condescension  of  the 
chevalier,  he  proposed  to  write  an  epic  poem  in  honor  of  his 
house.  This  farce  lasted  during  the  evening.  The  assembled 
company  were  in  convulsions  of  suppressed  laughter,  which 
broke  out  when,  at  the  moment  of  M.  Barthe's  most  ecstatic 
admiration  and  respect  for  his  new  patron,  Sophie  Arnould 
lifted  her  glass,  and,  looking  at  the  chevalier,  said,  in  a  clear 
voice,  "  Your  health,  Jeannot !"  The  sensations  of  poor  M. 
Barthe  may  readily  be  imagined.  The  incident  became  the 
story  of  the  day  iu  all  circles,  and  the  unlucky  poet  could  not 
go  any  where  for  fear  of  being  tormented  about  "  Jeannot." 

The  shadow  of  remorse  for  her  jDast  dissipated  life  never 
crossed  the  mind  of  Sophie  Arnould ;  on  the  contrary,  she 
often  amused  by  recalling  the  scenes  of  her  varied  career. 
One  day  Voltaire  said  to  her,  "  Ah !  mademoiselle,  I  am  eighty- 


SOPHIE   ARNOULD.  89 

four  years  old,  and  I  Lave  committed  eiglity-four  follies  {sot- 
Uses).''''  "A  mere  trifle,"  responded  Sophie.  "I  am  not  yet 
forty,  and  I  have  committed  more  than  a  thousand." 

At  length  she  withdrew  completely  from  the  world,  its 
pleasures,  its  cares,  and  its  passions.  She  lived  very  quietly, 
but  did  not  escape,  even  in  her  solitude,  the  criticisms  of  the 
world,  which  paid  her  back  her  audacity  Avith  interest.  In 
the  evenings  she  would  amuse  herself  by  singing  her  favorite 
airs,  and  often  the  passers-by  would  pause  to  listen.  One 
night  she  was  singing  the  air  oi  Ipliigenie — "  Adieu,  conservez 
dans  votre  ame,"  when  suddenly  a  stentorian  voice,  issuing 
from  the  crowd  of  idlers,  thundered  in  a  lugubrious  tone  this 
phrase  of  Alceste,  "  Caron  t'appelle,  entends  sa  voix !" 

In  1789  she  was  forced  to  sell  her  pretty  villa  at  Port,  which 
was  bought  by  a  musician  named  Baneux  to  give  fetes  cham- 
petres.  She  purchased,  in  1792,  the  presbytere  of  Clignan- 
court,  Luzarches  (Seine -et-Oise),  which  had  belonged  to  a 
community  of  monks  of  the  Order  of  St.  Francis.  This  abode 
she  decorated  prettily,  and  jestingly  inscribed  over  the  door 
"  Ite,  missa  est."  She  had  some  idea  of  living  altogether  in 
retirement  and  devotion,  and  burying  herself  in  the  country, 
to  enjoy  the  tranquil  delights  of  a  rustic  life  ;  but  she  met  with 
a  priest  who  terrified  her,  and  she  changed  her  mind.  "He 
lost  the  chance  of  making  a  good  conversion,"  she  would  say 
when  in  a  melancholy  mood.  She  remained  perfectly  undis- 
turbed for  a  long  time  amid  the  storms  of  the  Revolution. 
Once,  however,  she  was  alarmed  by  a  visit  from  the  sans  cu- 
lottes. A  deputation  waiting  on  her  to  know  whether  she  was 
a  good  citizen,  she  received  them  politely,  and  assured  them 
that  she  admired  the  Republic  above  all  things.  They  were 
somewhat  dissatisfied,  however,  fancying  that  she  was  not  sin- 
cere, and  Avere  about  to  take  her  to  prison  to  have  her  opinions 
more  rigidly  examined  into,  when  one  of  them  perceived  on  a 
console  a  bust  in  marble.  It  Avas  Sophie  in  the  character  of 
Iphigenia.  The  man,  deceived,  perhaps,  by  a  similarity  of  fea- 
ture or  expression,  or  by  the  scarf — for  there  could  scarcely 
have  been  any  nearer  resemblance  betAveen  the  piquant  Sophie 
and  the  coarse,  brutal-looking  Republican,  imagined  that  it 
Avas  the  bust  of  Marat,  and  drcAV  the  attention  of  his  comrades 
to  the  supposed  effigy  of  their  adored  hero.  "She  is  a  good 
citoyenne  after  all,"  exclaimed  he,  as  he  saluted  the  marble ; 


90  QUEENS    OF   SONG. 

and  they  Tbowecl  themselves  out,  convinced  that  Sophie  was  a 
stanch  suj^portcv  of  the  tricolor. 

She  had  then  30,000  livres  a  year,  and  friends  without  num- 
ber. Alas  for  the  mutability  of  human  things !  In  less  than 
two  years  she  had  lost  her  fortune,  and  her  friends,  dispersed 
by  exile,  imprisonment,  and  the  scaflold,  had  vanished  like  the 
morning  mist.  She  hastened  to  Paris  with  the  Avreck  of  her 
property,  and  a  lawyer  who  took  charge  of  her  aifairs  com- 
pleted her  ruin :  she  was  now  reduced  to  the  lowest  stage  of 
poverty. 

The  Count  dc  Lauraguais  was  still  in  good  circumstances, 
but  Sophie  did  not  solicit  aid  from  her  old  lover.  After  a  few 
days  a  thought  struck  her.  In  her  brilliant  days  Fouche  had 
loved  her.  Pie  was  now  a  great  man,  a  minister,  and  able  to 
afford  her  help  if  he  would.  One  morning  in  1798  a  message 
was  brought  to  Fouche  that  a  woman  demanded  an  audience, 
to  confide  to  him  something  of  importance.  She  was  admit- 
ted, and  he  recognized  Sophie  Arnould.  He  listened  to  her 
recital  with  emotion,  and  deciding  that  the  woman  who  had 
for  twenty  years  labored  to  entertain  the  public  was  entitled 
to  some  recompense,  he  signed  an  order  for  a  pension  of  2400 
livres,  and  ordered  that  apartments  should  bo  given  her  in  the 
Hotel  d^Angevilliers.  And  now  Sophie  Arnould,  who  the  day 
before  had  not  a  friend  in  the  world,  saw  crowding  round  her 
all  the  poets,  artists,  fashionable  loungers,  and  philosophers  of 
the  time.  The  charms  of  her  conversation  and  her  vivacity 
made  them  forget  the  ravages  of  time ;  she  was  once  more  the 
Sophie  Arnould  of  tlie  old  golden  days. 

In  1803  she  passed  away,  obscure,  unnoticed.  With  her 
also  passed  away,  their  departure  likewise  scarcely  recorded, 
two  of  the  most  eminent  actresses  of  the  French  stage — So- 
phie's instructor,  Clairon,  and  Sophie's  rival,  Mdlle.  de  Beau- 
mesnil. 


ANTOINETTE   CECILE   CLAVEL   ST.  UUBEETY.  91 


CHAPTER  IX. 

ANTOINETTE   CECILE   CLAVEL   ST.  HUBEETT. 

Antoinette  Cecile  Clavel,  born  at  Toulouse  about  IVSG, 
was  the  daughter  of  a  brave  old  soldier,  who  was  a  musician, 
and  repetiteur  to  a  French  operatic  troupe  in  the  service  of 
the  Elector  Palatine. 

At  Manheim,  in  1770,  M.  Clavel,  with  the  troupe  to  which  he 
belonged,  was  engaged  for  the  theatre  of  Warsaw.  He  took 
his  daughter  with  him,  and  the  French  composer,  Lemoyne, 
who  was  chef  d'orchestre  to  the  company,  gave  lessons  to  the 
young  girl  during  the  four  years  they  staid  in  that  city,  ulti- 
mately bringing  her  out  in  an  opera  of  his  composition  en- 
titled Le  Bouquet  de  Colette. 

From  Warsaw  the  young  candidate  for  operatic  honors 
went  to  Berlin,  where  she  married,  it  is  said,  a  certain  Cheva- 
lier de  Croisy.  After  her  marriage  she  was  engaged  at  the 
theatre  of  Strasbourg,  and  sang  there  during  three  years  un- 
der the  name  of  Mdlle.  Clavel.  She  was  now  bcginnius:  to  be 
known,  and  at  last  obtained  an  opportunity  of  going  to  Paris, 
where  she  appeared,  September  23,  1777,  at  the  Academic 
Royal  de  Musique,  in  the  little  role  of  Melisse,  in  Gliick's  Ar- 
micla.  She  was  at  first  hardly  noticed,  and  was  unable  to  ob- 
tain any  but  minor  characters.  Her  salary  was  a  mere  pit- 
tance, and  as  it  was  all  she  had  to  support  herself  upon,  she 
occupied  a  garret  in  the  Rue  du  Mail ;  her  furniture  consist- 
ing of  a  small  bed  and  a  trunk,  which  also  served  for  chair. 
She  attended  rehearsal  every  day  dressed  in  a  shabby,  scanty 
black  gown,  and  was  obliged  to  bear  witliout  a  murmur  the 
sneers  of  her  companions,  who  flaunted  about  in  silks,  laces, 
and  jewelry:  they  nicknamed  her  Madame  la  Ressource,  from 
the  comedy  of  JOe  Joueur,  by  Regnard,  and  were  pitiless  in 
their  ridicule. 

In  person  she  was  small,  thin,  and  fan- ;  her  features  were 
not  finely  formed,  and  her  mouth  was  of  unusual  size ;  but  her 
countenance  was  expressive.     She  had  no  striking  qualities 


92  QUEEXS    OF   SONG. 

whatever,  and  a  hard  German  accent  vitiated  her  pronuncia- 
tion, while  extreme  nervousness  marred  the  effect  of  her  acting. 

Despite  her  faults,  Gltick,  kind  and  discriminating,  perceiv- 
ing that  she  had  fervor  and  talent  which  only  needed  careful 
culture,  took  a  lively  interest  in  the  lonely  girl,  and  not  only 
defended  her  against  the  sarcasm  of  her  comrades,  but  set 
himself  to  work  to  develop  her  gifts.  Hearing  her  called 
Madame  la  Hessource,  "  Yes,"  he  said,  "  the  name  is  well  be- 
stowed, for  this  girl  will  some  day  be  truly  the  resource  of  the 
Opera." 

The  efforts  of  poor  Antoinette  to  correct  her  faults  were  un- 
ceasing, and  justified  the  judgment  of  the  great  master ;  and 
at  last  she  reaped  the  benefit  of  her  labor.  The  approaching 
retirement  of  Sophie  Arnould  and  of  Mdlle.  de  Beaumesnil 
gave  her  an  oj)portunity  of  being  heard  in  an  imjjortant  part, 
and  on  May  12,  1778,  she  appeared  as  Angelique,  in  Piccini's 
Jioland,  with  Moreau,  It  was  her  first  success.  The  follow- 
ing July  she  appeared  in  Iphigenie  en  Anlide,  with  Mdlle. 
Duranci,  Larrivee,  and  Legros ;  but  in  this  she  almost  failed 
through  excessive  timidity. 

In  nowise  discouraged,  Antoinette  still  persevered,  and  in 
1780  she  gained  a  triumph  in  Gretry's  new  opera  of  ie  Seign- 
eur Hienfaisant.  Her  accents  were  so  pathetic  in  a  scena 
expressive  of  anguish  and  despair,  that  the  theatre  resounded 
with  plaudits,  and  the  spectators  almost  forgot  that  it  was  but 
a  mimicry  of  human  emotion.  So  energetically  did  she  ren- 
der this  scena,  that  at  last  she  seriously  injured  her  health,  and 
was  obliged  to  reijose  for  some  weeks. 

Her  next  triumph  was  Egle,  in  Thesee,  by  Gossec,  produced 
March  1, 1782,  in  which  she  was  seconded  by  Larrivee,  Legros, 
and  Mdlle.  Dnplant.  Her  greatest  achievement  was  in  the 
Ariane  of  Edelmann.  Never  had  the  expression  of  tender- 
ness and  passion  been  so  exquisitely  delineated  on  the  French 
stage.  In  October  she  appeared,  with  Legros  and  Larrivee, 
in  IpJngenie  en  Tauride,  which  was  successfully  revived ;  and 
on  November  26,  she  proved,  by  her  performance  of  Rosette, 
in  Grt'try's  I^ Emharras  des  Hichesses,  that  she  had  as  much 
piquancy  and  delicacy  in  her  talent  as  she  had  energy  and 
sensibility. 

Her  conquest  of  the  public  was  completed  when  she  replaced 
Rosalie  Levasseur  as  Armide  in  Sacchini's  B,inaldo  in  1783. 


A^sTOINETTE   CECILE   CLAVEL   ST.  HUBEKTY.  93 

She  excited  transports  of  euthusiasm.  Marmontel,  the  Abbe 
Arnaud,  Gingaeue,  Morellet,  united  in  saying  that  she  caused 
all  her  predecessors  to  be  forgotten.  In  expression  of  feeling 
she  rose  almost  to  the  sublime,  and  her  countenance  was  irra- 
diated Avith  fire  and  passion.  The  poor  little  girl  who,  clad  in 
her  Avoru  black  gown,  had  jjlodded  patiently  backward  and 
forward  from  her  squalid  garret,  and  who  had  labored  so  per- 
severingly  and  waited  so  immurmuringly,  was  now  Queen  of 
the  Opera ;  and  the  death  of  Mdlle.  Laguerre,  at  the  com- 
mencement of  1783,  and,  a  short  time  after,  the  retirement  of 
Mdlle.  Levasseur,  left  her  in  undisputed  possession  of  the  sov- 
ereignty of  the  lyric  stage. 

Her  voice,  acting,  pronunciation,  and  enunciation  were  now 
irreproachable.  She  pronounced  in  a  manner  Avhich  appeared 
exaggerated  at  a  time  when  it  Avas  the  fashion  for  singers  to 
regard  the  words  as  unnecessary  appendages  to  the  music; 
but,  as  she  herself  said,  she  did  so  to  make  them  com2)rehend- 
ed  in  every  corner  of  the  house. 

In  1783,  a  new  grand  opera  for  the  spectacles  at  Fontaine- 
blcau  was  demanded  of  each  of  the  rival  composers,  Piccini 
and  Sacchini.  Sacchini's  oj^era  of  Chimhiey'in  which  Madame 
St.Huberty  (as  she  always  designated  herself)  performed,  was 
represented  first,  and  once  only,  before  the  court.  Marmontel 
was  writing  the  libretto  of  Dldon  for  Piccini,  and  invited  the 
composer  to  his  country  house,  and  when  the  work  was  finish- 
ed, Madame  St.  Iluberty,  who  was  to  perform  the  Queen  of 
Carthage,  came  to  dine  at  Marmontel's  house.  She  was  de- 
lighted with  the  part,  and  sang  it  throughout  from  the  score; 
"  and  she  expressed  it  so  well,"  says  the  jDoet,  "  that  I  imag- 
ined myself  at  the  theatre." 

During  the  rehearsals  the  critics  prophesied  no  brilliant  fate 
for  the  opera ;  but  Piccini  said,  "  Gentlemen,  do  not  judge  Di- 
clon  until  she  arrives."  And  he  was  right ;  for,  at  the  ajipear- 
ance  of  Madame  St.  Iluberty,  his  opera  was  received  with  de- 
light and  admiration  at  Fontainebleau.  Louis  XVI.,  who  did 
not  care  much  for  opera,  had  it  performed  twice :  he  was  rec- 
onciled to  this  style  of  opera  by  the  acting  of  St.  Iluberty,  to 
whom  he  gave  a  pension  of  1500  livres,  adding  one  of  five 
hundred  more  from  his  privy  purse.  When  it  was  produced 
at  Paris,  December  1st,  1783,  Didon  had  an  extraordinary  suc- 
cess, and  was  acknowledged  to  be  Piccini's  masterpiece. 


94  QUEENS    OF   SONG. 

As  Diclon,  Madame  St.  Hubevty  surpassed  herself.  "  Never," 
says  Grimm,  "  has  there  been  united  acting  more  captivating, 
a  sensibiUty  more  perfect,  singing  more  exquisite,  happier  by- 
play, and  more  noble  ahandon?''  She  was  crowned  on  the 
stao-e :  an  honor  hitherto  unknown,  and  since  so  much  abused. 
The  secret  of  her  marvelous  gift  lay  in  her  extreme  sensibility. 
Others  might  sing  an  air  better,  but  no  one  could  give  to  either 
airs  or  recitatives  accentuation  more  pure  or  more  impassion- 
ed, action  more  dramatic,  and  by-play  more  eloquent.  Some 
one  complimenting  her  on  the  vivid  truth  with  which  she 
embodied  her  part,  "  I  really  experience  it,"  she  said.  "  In  a 
death-scene  I  actually  feel  as  if  I  were  dead." 

Piccini  next  produced  Le  Faux  Lord  at  the  Comtdie  Ital- 
ienne.  In  this  Madame  St.  Huberty,  who  was  now  in  the  first 
rank  of  vocalists  in  lyric  tragedy,  excited  frantic  enthusiasm 
whenever  she  appeared.  On  one  occasion  the  audience  rose 
with  one  impulse,  and  cried  "  Vive  Didon  !  Vive  la  reine  de 
Carthage !"  "  Ariane  abandonnee"  was  another  part  in  which 
Madame  St.  Huberty  excelled ;  and  as  Colette,  in  the  Demn 
du  Village^  she  appeared  a  simple  country  girl. 

It  has  been  said  that  Talma  was  the  first  who  discarded  the 
old  absurd  costumes  of  the  theatre,  but  it  was  in  reality  Ma- 
dame St.  Huberty  who  effected  the  revolution.  She  studied 
the  Greek  and  Roman  statues,  and  wore  robes  in  keeping  with 
the  antique  characters  which  she  assumed,  and  thus  speedily 
suppressed  hoops  and  powder.  In  arranging  her  costume  for" 
Didon,  she  had  a  design  expressly  sent  from  Rome.  Yet  still 
a  costume  of  white  satin,  with  red  bordering  for  the  Romans, 
a  buffcoat,  with  cuirass  and  helmet  for  the  Cavaliers,  a  Spanish 
habit,  and  a  ridiculous  Turkish  suit,  constituted  the  wardrobes 
for  tragedies ;  while  Cupid  was  attired  in  stockings  and  breech- 
es of  rose-colored  tafieta,  with  jeweled  garters  and  black  shoes 
embroidered  in  spangles. 

Madame  St.  Huberty  also  appeared  in  Hypermnestra,  in  Les 
Dcmaiades^  an  opera  by  Salieri,  which  was  produced  by  Gltick 
under  his  name  to  insure  its  success ;  and  in  1785  she  appeared 
in  Gretry's  Panurge,  with  Lays.  On  the  retirement  of  Mdlle. 
Duplant,  Madame  St.  Huberty  was  persuaded  to  essay,  in  April, 
1785,  the  character  of  Clytemnestre,  in  IpMgenie  en  Aidide; 
but,  from  want  of  strength  of  voice,  this  performance  was  a 
failure. 


AJfTOINETTE   CKCILE   CLAVEL   ST.  HUBERTY.  95 

On  Madame  St.  Hubevty  visiting  Mai'seilles  in  this  year,  the 
most  clistinguisbcd  hidies  of  the  city  formed  her  escort,  accom- 
panying her  to  the  pavilion  of  Marseilles  in  a  gondola,  which 
was  surrounded  with  two  hundred  little  boats,  crowded  with 
persons  of  all  classes,  and  she  was  saluted  with  a  salvo  of  artil- 
lery as  if  she  were  a  veritable  sovereign.  The  Greek  ladies  at 
Marseilles  presented  her  with  a  rich  modern  Greek  costume, 
which  she  wore  at  her  fete,  August  15,  This  fete  was  most 
splendid.  The  popular  cancatrice  having  arrived  by  sea  in  a 
very  beautiful  gondola,  disembarked  amid  thunders  of  artillery 
and  the  acclamations  of  the  people.  She  then  re-embarked  for 
the  purpose  of  witnessing  a  water  tournament.  On  leaving 
the  gondola,  the  people  danced  round  her  with  tambourines, 
and  conducted  her  to  an  illuminated  pavilion  at  a  neighboring 
villa.  In  a  tent  was  arranged  a  little  theatre  champetre,  where 
was  played  a  little  allegorical  piece  composed  in  honor  of  this 
divinity  of  the  Opera  by  a  Proven5al  poet.  During  the  ball 
which  followed,  Madame  St.Hubcrty  was  placed  on  an  estrade 
between  Meljiomene  and  Polymnie,  the  two  muses  of  the  piece. 
Then  there  were  illuminations  and  a  magnificent  supper.  At 
the  close  of  the  repast  some  couplets  were  sung  in  her  honor, 
to  which  she  replied  in  some  couplets  in  the  Proven9al  patois. 
On  quitting  Provence,  she  bore  away  with  her  in  the  inipcriale 
of  her  carriage  more  than  a  hundred  coronets,  many  of  which 
were  of  great  value. 

•  In  1*790  Madame  St.  Huberty  sent  in  her  resignation  to  the 
Opera,  when  she  was  complimented  by  a  superb /e/c  (Cadieux 
on  her  retirement  from  the  stage.  On  December  29  of  that 
year  she  married  the  Count  d'Entraigues,  with  whom  she  had 
been  intimate  for  some  time  previous ;  but  their  union  was 
kept  secret  for  seven  years.  The  count  had  served  in  the 
French  army,  and  was  one  of  the  orators  of  the  Constitutional 
Assembly ;  he  Avas  subsequently  appointed  Secretary  of  the 
French  embassy  to  Spain,  and  after  the  peace  was  attached  to 
the  embassy  to  Russia.  On  leaving  for  Vienna  he  was  arrest- 
ed at  Trieste,  his  pajDcrs  seized,  and  himself  thrown  into  the 
citadel  of  Milan,  on  a  charge  of  connivance  with  Pichcgru  in 
the  affair  of  Moreau.  Ilis  wife  managed  to  procure  his  escape, 
and  he  then  announced  his  marriage  with  her.  For  this  act 
of  devotion,  and  for  saving  a  portfolio  of  important  papers, 
Louis  XVIII.  bestowed  on  Madame  d'Entraigues  the  Order 
of  St.  Michel. 


9G  QUEENS    OF   SONG. 

Count  d'Entraigues  afterward  entered  the  political  service 
of  Russia.  He  was  intrusted  with  secret  missions,  and  derived 
great  emoluments  from  carrying  to  St.  Petersburg  the  secret 
articles  of  the  peace  of  Tilsit,  copies  of  which  he  also  sold  to 
the  English  ministry  of  which  Canning  was  premier.  The 
count  and  countess  then  settled  in  England,  and  resided  at 
Barnes.  But  their  life  of  retirement  was  soon  cut  short  by 
the  poniard  of  an  assassin.  The  count's  valet,  a  Piedmontese 
named  Lorenzo,  had  been  bribed  by  a  Venetian  refugee  or  a 
Swiss,  an  agent  of  Foucho,  to  betray  his  master  and  purloin 
certain  j)apers.  On  the  morning  of  the  22d  of  July,  1812,  as 
the  count  was  descending  the  staircase,  Lorenzo,  who  had  as- 
certained that  his  tragedy  was  discovered,  stabbed  his  master 
twice  with  a  dagger,  and  ran  up  stairs  for  a  pistol  to  finish 
the  bloody  deed.  Meeting  the  countess,  and  fearing  detec- 
tion', he  stabbed  her  also,  and  then  attempted  to  blow  out  his 
brains.  Both  the  victims  and  their  murderer  died,  and  the 
envelopes  of  the  papers  he  had  stolen  were  found  in  the  trunk 
of  the  assassin.  Some  years  after,  the  wretch  who  suborned 
Lorenzo  committed  suicide  by  throwing  himself  from  a  win- 
dow. 


GERTRUDE   ELIZABETH   MARA.  97 


CHAPTER  X. 

GERTRUDE  ELIZABETH   MARA, 

Gertrude  Elizabeth  Mara  was  the  daughter  of  Jobanu 
Schmiiling,  a  respectable  musician  in  Hesse  Cassel.  She  was 
born  February  23,  1749.  Soon  after  her  birth  she  lost  her 
mother ;  but  her  father,  out  of  his  very  limited  means  and 
scanty  leisure,  tried  to  rear  her  as  best  he  could. 

It  is  easy  to  picture  the  little  German  girl  in  the  home  of 
her  childhood,  trying  to  amuse  herself  during  papa's  daily  ab- 
sences. Sometimes,  as  she  sits  shut  up  in  her  solitary  apart- 
ment, debarred  from  all  juvenile  sports,  she  will  watch  the  vi- 
brating pendulum  of  the  old  French  clock,  and  beat  time  to 
its  motion  with  her  head  and  hand.  Then  a  noise  in  the  street 
attracts  her  attention,  and,  flying  to  the  window,  she  mounts 
a  stool,  and  on  tiptoe  peers  on  the  outer  world — that  is  to  say, 
on  as  much  as  is  visible  in  the  dull  German  strasse — and  per- 
ceives an  itinerant  guitarist  thrumming  to  a  crowd.  She 
drinks  in  the  sounds  rapturously,  and  beats  time  on  the  win- 
dow-ledge with  a  feeling  of  delight  which  is  never  efl:aced 
from  her  mind. 

Unexpectedly  a  new  pleasure  is  presented  to  her,  though 
accompanied  by  temptation,  which  perhaps  renders  it  the  more 
delicious.  Her  father,  having  picked  up  from  an  Italian  the 
art  of  repairing  musical  instruments,  is  often  at  work  mending 
such  instruments  as  are  portable.  Gertrude  sits  on  her  stool, 
following  his  movements  with  the  wondering  eyes  which  be- 
long exclusively  to  children,  observing  his  busy  fingers  with 
lively  curiosity.  One  day  papa,  having  mended  a  violin, 
leaves  it  on  his  bench,  and  then  goes  out,  committing  the  care 
of  the  little  room  to  his  almost  baby  daughter.  The  solitary 
child  approaches  the  bench  and  eyes  the  violin ;  then,  quaking 
at  her  temerity,  she  touches  it.  The  strings  vibrate ;  her  ears 
tingle  with  the  joy  of  a  novel  pleasure.  She  draws  the  strings 
again,  and,  grown  bolder  by  impunity,  indulges  in  a  rather 
too  violent  pizzicato  movement.  Oh  horror!  one  of  the  strings 
7  .        E 


98  QUEENS    OP   SONG. 

snaps,  and  she  can  do  nothing  but  sit  down  and  wait  trem- 
bUngly  for  her  father's  return.  Of  course  she  gets  a  smart 
scolding  from  the  j^oor  hard-worked  musician  and  instrument 
mender,  and  is  visited  with  terrible  prophecies  of  what  will 
befall  her  if  she  ventures  to  touch  the  violin  again.  For  some 
days  she  does  not  dare  approach  the  bench ;  but  at  last,  in 
some  more  than  usually  lonely  hour,  the  temptation  proves 
too  strong.  She  begins  pulling  the  magic  strings,  and  is  so 
absorbed  in  her  amusement  that  her  father  is  in  the  middle 
of  the  room  gazing  sternly  on  her  before  she  is  conscious  of 
his  entrance.  Dropping  the  instrument,  she  flies,  in  her  dis- 
may, into  a  corner,  and  waits  for  her  father  to  declare  what 
her  punishment  shall  be. 

"  So,"  says  he,  menacingly,  "  you  have  again  disobeyed  me. 
]Sr6w,  as  a  punishment,  I  will  make  you  learn  to  play  that  in- 
strument." 

To  his  astonishment,  the  child,  instead  of  beginning  to  cry 
or  whimper,  runs  to  the  fiddle,  and,  seizing  it  with  the  ardor 
of  a  genuine  virtuosa,  draws  from  it  tones  of  the  softest  and 
most  pleasing  kind,  as  if  caressing  it.  Papa  can  not  resist  this, 
and  with  a  half  smile  quits  the  field,  leaving  his  daughter  mis- 
tress of  the  violin.  In  a  short  time,  such  is  her  assiduity,  she 
is  able  to  run  through  the  greater  part  of  the  scale  with  ease 
and  correctness ;  and  ere  many  weeks  are  out,  she  is  so  far 
proficient  that  she  is,  to  her  pride  and  delight,  able  to  accom- 
pany her  father  in  some  easy  duets. 

The  neighbors  soon  find  out  that  the  solitary  little  girl  has 
proved  a  musical  prodigy.  They  flock  to  the  room  of  Herr 
Schmaling  to  listen  to  the  child's  performance.  Then  the  more 
respectable  inhabitants — the  exclusives — send  for  the  youthful 
genius ;  and  frequently  she  may  be  seen  carried  in  her  father's 
arms  through  the  streets,  going  from  one  house  to  another. 
Presents  are  showered  upon  her,  which  tend  materially  to  bet- 
ter the  circumstances  of  herself  and  her  father;  and  as  the  good 
Herr  has  by  this  means  more  time  to  devote  to  the  instruction 
of  his  child,  the  advanta2:e  is  doubled. 

Some  friends  advised  Herr  Schmaling  to  take  his  daughter 
to  Frankfort.  She  was  then  six  years  old,  and  made  a  sensa- 
tion. From  tlience  they  proceeded  from  town  to  town,  till 
they  reached  Holland,  where,  after  performing  for  some  time, 
they  were  counseled  to  undertake  a  journey  to  England. 


GERTKUDE   ELIZABETH   MAE  A.  99 

Gertrude — or  rather  Elizabeth,  for  her  first  name  was  gener- 
ally dropiDed — was  ten  years  of  age  when  she  ventured  with 
her  father  to  London,  the  city  where  merit  is  always  rewarded. 
They  were  well  received,  as  a  novelty  of  the  hour,  and  had  the 
honor  of  appearing  before  the  king  and  the  court.  The  child 
was  admired  and  petted ;  but  some  of  the  ladies,  with  the  true 
British  antipathy  for  female  fiddlers,  advised  her  to  change  the 
violin  for  the  harpsichord.  She  agreed — or  her  father  for  her 
— to  give  up  her  favorite  instrument,  and  he  directed  her  stud- 
ies toward  singing.  Meanwhile,  as  there  were  several  juvenile 
performers  in  London  at  this  time,  it  was  determined  to  give 
a  concert,  combining  their  several  talents ;  and  a  fashionable 
assemblage  at  the  little  theatre  in  the  Haymarket  one  evening 
witnessed  a  display  of  precocious  genius.  Mdlle.  Schmaling 
and  Baron  played  on  the  violin,  a  Miss  B.  on  the  harpsichord, 
and  Cervetto  on  the  violoncello. 

As  her  voice  promised  to  be  a  very  fine  one,  Herr  Schmaling 
resolved  to  obtain  good  instruction  for  his  daughter,  and  he 
placed  her  with  an  Italian  singer  of  some  repute — Paradisi. 
The  cunning  signor  soon  perceived  the  value  of  the  gem  he 
was  required  to  polish,  and  artfully  endeavored  to  enter  into  a 
bargain  with  the  worthy  German  that  they  should  divide  all 
profits  for  a  term  of  years  as  an  indemnification  for  his  serv- 
ices ;  Herr  Schmaling,  however,  plainly  saw  the  drift  of  the 
Italian's  proposition,  and  quietly  declined  it.  Signor  Paradisi, 
disgusted  and  enraged,  I'efused  to  have  any  thing  more  to  do 
with  these  obstinate  Germans,  and  the  young  vocalist's  father 
had  to  take  on  himself  once  more  the  part  of  musical  instructor. 

But  fashion  is  fickle,  and  soon  the  clever  little  German  girl 
went  out  of  vogue.  She  next  appeared  in  a  very  diftcrent  sit- 
uation. It  chanced  that  Dr.  Harrington — famous  for  his  large 
wig  and  the  favorite  duet,  "  How  sweet  in  the  woodlands" — 
was  one  evening  sitting  at  his  window,  while  he  was  living  at 
Wells,  conversing  with  some  friends  who  had  dined  with  him, 
when  "a  German  family"  approached,  and  began  a  musical  per- 
formance ;  the  father  playing  the  flute,  a  woman  who  accom- 
panied hira  thrumming  the  guitar,  a  girl  singing,  and  a  boy 
carrying  i-ound  a  hat  to  collect  halfpence.  The  tones  of  the 
girl's  voice,  and  her  brilliant  execiition  of  a  piece  of  music  with 
which  the  doctor  and  his  friends  were  familiar,  drew  their  de- 
lighted attention,  and  the  family  were  desired  to  come  into  the 


100  QUEENS   or   SONG- 

hall  to  repeat  their  performance.  The  doctor,  becoming  inter- 
ested in  the  musicians,  inquired  into  their  circumstances,  when 
the  father,  in  doleful  terms,  informed  him  that  his  name  was 
Schmiiling ;  that,  being  disappointed  of  obtaining  employment 
in  London,  and  having  no  pecuniary  resources,  he  had  been 
obliged  to  adopt  this  itinerant  course  as  a  means  of  support. 
Dr.  Harrington  could  do  little  for  him  at  Wells,  which  was  not 
a  musical  place,  but  he  gave  Herr  Schmiiling  letters  to  some 
influential  people  in  Bath  as  an  introduction  to  persons  who 
would  patronize  a  morning  concert  there,  "  The  girl's  voice 
did  not  fail  to  divest  the  doctor's  recommendation  of  its  ap- 
pearance of  enthusiasm.  She  was  heard,  wondered  at,  and 
talked  of.  Some  amateurs  immediately  tendered  their  serv- 
ices to  carry  the  father's  project  into  effect ;  bills  were  printed, 
tickets  issued  and  purchased,  and  the  doctor  rode  over  to  su- 
perintend in  person  the  musical  arrangements."  From  the 
proceeds  of  this  concert  enough  was  obtained  to  enable  the 
poor  musicians  to  return  to  their  native  Germany. 

On  their  return  to  Cassel  they  were  received  with  delight 
and  warmest  welcome  by  the  neighbors  who  had  formerly 
crowded  the  room  of  the  worthy  Herr  Schmiiling  to  hear  his 
clever  child.  Almost  the  first  news  that  the  musician  heard 
was  that  the  great  Frederick  had  formed  a  chapel,  and  he  im- 
mediately sought  to  obtain  places  for  himself  and  his  daughter 
on  the  establishment.  Unfortunately,  Frederick  had  an  invin- 
cible prejudice  against  German  musicians,  and  determined  that 
he  would  not  engage  any  if  he  could  help  himself;  he  there- 
fore looked  coldly  on  the  application  of  Herr  Schmiiling.  Yet, 
that  he  might  not  appear  to  act  unfairly  toward  the  young 
artiste,  be  sent  his  first  singer,  Morelli,  to  a  concert  which  she 
gave,  desiring  him  to  report.  Morelli  went,  listened,  and  came 
back.  "  Ella  canta  come  una  Tedesca,"  said  he  ("  she  sings 
like  a  German").  Frederick  shrugged  his  shoulders,  and  did 
not  engage  either  Elizabeth  or  her  father  that  time. 

After  a  short  stay  at  Cassel,  they  went  in  1V66  to  Leipsic, 
where  a  concert  was  organized  under  the  direction  of  the  cel- 
ebrated Hiller,  who  desired  to  introduce  the  young  singer  to 
the  notice  of  the  amateurs  of  that  place.  Her  success  was 
plainly  proved  by  an  engagement  at  the  theatre  as  first  singer 
at  a  salary  of  six  hundred  rix  dollars  (about  eighty  pounds) ; 
a  tolerably  good  beginuuig  at  that  period  for  a  debutante. 


GERTRUDE   ELIZABETH   MARA. 


101 


She  now  turned  her  attention  to  the  harpsichord  with  such 
honest  zeal,  that  in  a  very  little  time  she  had  thoroughly  mas- 
tered its  difficulties,  and  played  at  several  concerts  in  public. 

EUzabeth's  personal  appearance  Avas  far  from  striking.  She 
was  by  no  means  handsome,  being  short  and  insignificant,  with 
a  rather  agreeable,  good-natured  countenance,  the  leading  fea- 
ture of  which  was — terrible  defect  in  a  singer — a  set  ^jiuegr 
.  ular  teeth,  which  projected,  !n  defiance  of  or'cTer,  out  of  their 
131- oper  "places.  Her  manner,  however,  was  prepossessing, 
thoug;!!  she  was  an  indiifereut  actress ;  but  her  voice  atoned 
for  every  thing:  its  compass  was  from  G  to  E  in  altissimo, 
which  she  ran  with  the  greatest  ease  and  force,  the  tones  being 
at  once  powerful  and  sweet.  Both  her  portamento  di  voce 
and  her  volubility  were  declared  to  be  unrivaled.  It  was  re- 
n: irked  that  she  seemed  to  take  difficult  music  from  choice, 
aiid  she  could  sing  fluently  at  sight;  rather  a  rare  accomplish- 
ment among  vocalists  of  that  day.  Nothing  taxed  her  pow- 
ers. Her  execution  was  easy  and  neat;  her  shake  was  true, 
open,  and  liquid  ;  and  though  she  preferred  brilliant,  effiictive 
pieces,  her  refined  taste  was  w^ell  known.  "  Her  voice,  clear, 
sweet,  and  distinct,  was  sufficiently  powerful,"  remarked  Lord 
Mount  Edgecumbe  afterward,  "though  rather  thin,  and  its 
agility  and  flexibility  rendered  her  a  most  excellent  bravura 
singer,  in  which  style  she  was  unrivaled."  "  Mara's  divisions," 
observes  another  critic,  "always  seemed  to  convey  a  meaning; 
they  were  vocal,  not  instrumental ;  they  had  light  and  shade, 
and  variety  of  tone." 

About  a  year  after  Elizabeth  had  appeared  in  Lcipsic,  it  was 
resolved  to  give  a  performance  at  Dresden  in  honor  of  the 
birthday  of  the  prince.  It  happened  that  the  Grand  Duke  of 
Saxony,  in  company  with  the  dowager  Duchess  Maria  Antonia, 
paid  a  visit  to  Leipsic  on  the  occasion  of  the  great  annual  fair, 
and  hearing  the  young  singer  at  a  concert  which  she  gave, 
they  expressed  their  appreciation  of  her  talents  in  flattering 
terms.  The  dowager  duchess  desired  that  the  young  girl 
should  be  invited  to  pei'form  at  Dresden,  and  she  was  invited 
thither  accordingly.  Inexperienced,  and  haunted  by  that  in- 
definable distrust  of  herself  which  always  pursues  real  genius, 
Elizabeth  was  fluttered  at  the  idea  of  singing  before  a  royal 
circle.  Maria  Antonia  was  all  kindness,  and  testified  an  in- 
terest in  even  the  costume  the  young  singer  was  to  wear ;  it 


\ 


102  QUEENS   OF  SOXG. 

was  ricli  and  costly,  and  the  gift  of  the  royal  lady.  The 
duchess,  seeing  her  timidity  and  alarm,  which  amounted  to  a 
ludicrous  bashfulness,  instructed  her  in  the  style  in  which  she 
should  walk  and  otherwise  comport  herself  on  the  stage,  jDoint- 
ir-dng  out  the  attitudes  most  appropriate  to  the  situations  of  the 
piece. 

Mdlle.  Schmaling  returned  to  Leipsic  in  the  beginning  of 
1*708,  laden  with  presents  and  "decked  out  like  a  queen." 
Naturally  the  first  inquiries  of  her  friends  were  what  impres- 
sion she  had  made  at  Dresden,  as  people  cross-examine  young 
beauties  after  a  ball  as  to  how  many  partners  they  had,  and 
how  many  conquests  they  achieved.  "Did  you  succeed?" 
they  asked.  "  They  say  so,"  was  her  naive  reply, "  but  I  know 
I  nQthing  about  it ;  I  sang  as  well  as  I  could ;  and  only  see  how, 
in  return,  they  have  bedizened  me  out  like  a  mantua-maker's 
show-block!  This  was  the  way  I  got  on  there."  "But," 
they  said,  "you  had  some  one  to  instruct  you  what  to  do?" 
"Oh  yes;  but  then  I  made  many  sad  blunders.  I  thought 
how  it  would  be  when  they  once  got  me  there." 

She  was  strongly  advised  to  visit  Italy,  but,  attached  to  her 
own  country,  and  anxious,  for  some  reason,  to  see  Berlin,  she 
coaxed  her  father  to  take  her  there  instead.  She  was  now 
twenty-two:  her  voice  was  completely  formed,  and  its  flexi- 
bility and  power  of  expression  excited  the  admiration  of  all 
true  judges.  It  was  with  confidence  that  she  made  her  debut 
at  Berlin,  in  1771,  in  Hasse's  Piramo  e  Tishe,  with  the  famous 
Concialini,  who  gave  her  some  finishing  lessons.  She  achieved 
a  great  success ;  to  the  astonishment  of  the  flute-2)laying,  gren- 
adier-trapping king,  who  at  first  would  "  hardly  deign  to  hear 
her,"  Zelter  informed  Goethe,  his  majesty  having  a  special  [ 

prejudice  against  the  German  style.     He  declared  at  first  that  *^ 

he  as  soon  expected  pleasure  from  the  neighing  of  his  horse 
as  from  a  German  singer;  but  she  was  invited  to  Potsdam, 
and  he  agreed  to  hear  her. 

Indignant  at  the  injustice  of  being  thus  condemned  solely 
on  account  of  her  nationality,  Elizabeth  was  too  angry  to  feel 
any  awe  at  the  idea  of  singing  before  her  royal  critic.  She 
presented  herself  with  a  degree  of  confidence  which  nerved 
her  for  any  task,  and  found,  sitting  close  to  the  piano-forte,  a 
little,  crabbed,  lean  old  man,  with  a  slightly  stooping  figure, 
attired  with  Spartan  simplicity  in  an  old  blue  coat  with  red 


\ 


GERTRUDE   ELIZABETH   MARA.  103 

facings,  and  a  liberal  allowance  of  Spanish  snuff  on  the  breast, 
in  whom  she  soon  recognized  the  king.  Beside  him  lay  his 
battered  military  cocked  hat  and  his  thick  cane,  ^vhich  he  used 
as  a  riding-whip,  hitting  the  horse  between  the  ears.  The 
royal  physiognomy  was  not  prepossessing :  the  thin  lips,  prom- 
inent jaws,  snuffy  nose,  receding  brow,  and  grim  expression, 
did  not  seem  to  promise  much  leniency ;  and  the  eyes,  of  su- 
pernatural brilliancy,  were  fixed  steadily  on  Elizabeth  with  a 
most  disconcertingly  piercing  expression.  As  he  said  nothing, 
and  made  no  sign  for  her  to  approach,  the  cantatrice,  with  a 
coolness  acquired  by  her  trying  situation,  commenced  examin- 
ing some  paintings  which  hung  near  her.  At  legnth  Freder- 
ick condescended  to  beckon  to  her.  She  advanced  and  courte- 
sied. 

"So  you  are  going  to  sing  me  something?"  he  said,  abruptly. 

"As  your  majesty  pleases,"  was  her  reply,  curt  as  the  in- 
j  quiry;  and  she  seated  herself  at  the  piano-forte  without  far- 
ther ceremony. 

The  king  listened  with  profound  attention.  He  was  aston-j 
ished,  but  would  not  admit  it.  Taking  an  enormous  handful 
of  snuff  from  his  huge  box,  "Ha!  can  you  sing  at  sight?"  he 
asked.  And,  ere  she  had  time  to  answer,  he  picked  out  the 
most  trying  bravura  in  his  collection.  "This,  to  be  sure," 
said  he,  placing  it  before  her,  "is  but  poor  stuff,  but  when 
well  executed  it  sounds  pretty  enough." 

She  sang  it  without  a  single  mistake;  then  sang  another; 
and  at  last  the  king  was  fairly  vanquished.  He  said  a  thou- 
sand flattering  things,  and  dismissed  her  with  a  handsome 
present.  After  this  she  was  daily,  and  for  several  weeks  to- 
gether, invited  to  Potsdam ;  and  finally,  the  next  year,  she 
was  retained  as  court  singer,  with  a  salary  of  3000  Prussian 
dollars — about  £450. 

Being  desirous  of  perfecting  herself  in  the  science  of  music, 
she  went  through  a  course  of  thorough  bass  under  the  well- 
known  Kirnberger.  She  might  have  felt  a  fear  lest  his  maj- 
esty should  find  her  deficient  in  any  particular;  for  Freder- 
ick's enthusiasm  for  music  was  only  equaled  by  his  love  for 
war  and  his  passion  for  snuff.  His  favorite  amusement  was 
playing  on  the  flute ;  and  he  really  was  a  master  of  the  instru- 
ment. His  si^lcndid  collection  of  flutes  was  attended  to  by  a 
man   specially  retained  to  keep  them  dry  or  moist,  as  the 


104  QUEENS   OF   SONG. 

weather  required.  These  flutes,  which  were  all  made  by  the 
same  manvifacturer,  cost  a  hundred  ducats  each. 

Nobody  was  permitted  to  attend  his  majesty's  concerts  be- 
sides the  performers  and  a  very  few  select  friends.  So  fearful 
was  Frederick,  however,  of  being  detected  in  a  false  note,  that 
when  first  trying  over  some  new  piece  of  music,  he  would  shut 
himself  up  for  hours  in  his  private  apartment  to  practice  it ; 
and  even  then,  when  beginning  it  with  the  accompaniment,  he 
Avould  tremble  like  an  aspen.  The  king  defrayed  the  entire 
expenses  of  the  Opera,  the  performances  being  always  free. 
At  six  o'clock  in  the  evening,  with  military  punctuality,  his 
majesty  took  his  place  in  the  pit,  close  to  the  orchestra,  behind 
the  leader,  where  he  could  easily  see  the  score,  and  so  detect 
the  slightest  deviation  or  fault  committed  by  the  singers. 
The  orchestra  consisted  of  fifty-one  performers  (two  harpsi- 
chord players  among  the  number).  The  vocalists  were,  Sig- 
nora  Agricola,  wife  of  the  composer,  and  fifty  years  of  age ; 
Signora  Gasparini,  a  fine  antique  of  seventy-two ;  Signer  Con- 
cialini.  Signer  Porporino,  and  Elizabeth  Schmaling.  Charles 
Concialini,  born  at  Sienna  in  1744,  had  come  from  the  court 
of  Bavaria  in  1764  to  form  part  of  the  great  Frederick's  chap- 
el. The  qualities  which  distinguished  him  were  a  beautiful 
mise  de  voix,  great  lightness,  and,  above  all,  a  delicious  trill. 

Being  installed  as  principal  singer  at  the  court  of  Prussia, 
Mdlle.  Schmaling,  perhaps,  found  she  had  more  time  at  her  dis- 
posal than  she  knew  Avell  what  to  do  with,  for  in  1773  she  fell 
in  love  with  a  handsome  violoncellist",  named  Jean  Mara,  a  na- 
tive of  Berlin,  a  favorite  of  Prince  Henry,  the  king's  brother. 
He  was  a  showy,  extravagant  man,  and  made  such  an  impres- 
sion on  her  susceptible  heart  that  she  accepted  his  ofier  of 
marriage.  The  king,  knowing  the  morals  and  character  of  his 
brother's  dashing  violoncellist,  gave  his  protegee  some  well- 
meant  hints.  But  love  is  proverbially  blind ;  and  as  it  was 
difficult  to  obtain  permission  to  marry,  the  lovers  absented 
themselves  without  leave.  They  were  captured  immediately, 
and  Mara  was  exiled  to  a  regiment  at  Kastrin,  where  he  was 
compelled  to  become  a  fifer.  Probably  Vater  Fritz  thought 
it  would  be  more  judicious  and  more  gracious  to  give  his  con- 
sent to  the  alliance ;  so  Mara  was  permitted  to  return  to  Ber- 
lin, and  the  union  was  solemnized. 

In  a  very  short  time  after  her  marriage,  Elizabeth  found 


GERTEUDE  ELIZABETH   MAEA. 


105 


that  hei*  beloved  Jean  had  a  heavy  arm  and  an  energetic  meth- 
od of  expressing  his  opinions,  especially  in  such  family  debates 
as  might  be  brought  forward  for  discussion  after  dinner.  The 
king  heard  of  his  doings;  and  being  informed  on  one  occasion 
that  he  had  beaten  his  wife  with  such  violence  that  she  was 
unable  to  appear  in  the  royal  jiresence  from  a  discolored  eye, 
the  indignant  monarch  (who  did  not  hesitate  to  break  even 
one  of  his  favorite  flutes  on  the  head  of  a  pet  hussar  in  a  mo- 
ment of  excitement)  sent  for  the  brute  Mara,  and  telling  him 
that  as  he  was  so  fond  of  beating,  it  would  be  a  pity  to  debar 
him  full  exercise  in  his  amusement,  packed  him  ofl'to  play  the 
part  of  drummer  to  one  of  his  regiments  for  a  mouth. 

Accompanied  by  her  husband  —  whom  she  was  always  for- 
giving—  Madame  Mara  paid  a  visit  in  1777  to  her  native 
place,  where  she  was  enthusiastically  received.  A  concert  was 
proposed,  and  so  great  was  the  demand  for  tickets  that  no 
building,  even  the  theatre  itself,  was  sufficient  to  contain  the 
number  of  applicants.  A  second  concert  Avas  almost  as  fully 
attended.  Between  the  parts  of  the  programme  she  was  in- 
vited into  the  grand  duke's  box,  and  received  by  the  potent- 
ate with  flattering  attention :  he  kissed  her  on  the  forehead, 
and  overwhelmed  her  with  praises.  After  this  she  sang  in  a 
selection  of  sacred  music,  given  for  the  benefit  of  the  charita- 
ble institutions  of  the  place,  in  the  cathedral  church,  which 
was  crowded  to  excess.  Of  the  effect  she  produced,  some 
idea  may  be  formed  from  the  well-known  exclamation  of  the 
celebrated  prcachei',  Pfistcr,  when  on  his  death-bed  : 

"I  should  die  more  at  case  could  I  but  once  again  hear 
Madame  Mara  in  the  temple  of  the  Lord  my  God !" 

In  1779,  in  consequence  of  the  Bavarian  succession,  there 
was  no  Carnival.  The  same  year  Madame  Mara  received  an 
invitation  to  siuGC  in  London.  She  was  offered  an  enormous 
sum  —  it  was  said  £1G00  for  three  evenings,  but  that  surely 
must  have  been  a  mistake — together  with  £2500  to  defray  her 
traveling  expenses.  It  was  awkward  asking  for  a  conr/e,  as 
the  royal  Frederick  was  determined  she  should  not  leave  his 
kingdom.  She  asked,  however.  The  reply  was  laconic,  but 
significant :  "  Madame  Mara  may  go,  but  M.  Mara  must  stay 
where  he  is."  The  great  Fritz  depended  on  her  passionate 
love  for  her  husband  to  keep  her.  Unluckily  for  this  hypoth- 
esis, the  handsome  brute  preferred  money  even  to  the  society 

E  3 


106  QUEENS   OF   SO^'G. 

of  liis  fair  Elizabeth,  and  he  proved  to  her  by  striking  argu- 
ments that  she  could  easily  make  the  journey  under  the  pro- 
tection of  a  female  relative.  The  king,  on  hearing  this,  re- 
fused to  let  her  go.  Poor  Madame  Mara  was  so  unhappy  at 
the  disappointment  that  she  was  laid  up  with  a  dangerous 
fever. 

On  recovering  from  her  attack,  she  was  forbidden  by  her 
physicians  to  sing  for  some  time,  and  ordered  to  the  baths  of 
Toplitz.  The  grim  Frederick  being  asked  for  leave  of  ab- 
sence— 

"  Freyenwalde  will  do  quite  as  Avell,"  said  his  majesty,  in 
his  customary  laconic  style. 

But  Elizabeth  Mara  was  a  woman,  and  as  obstinate  as  Queen 
Anne.  She  repeated  her  asseverations  that  it  was  indispensa- 
ble she  should  recruit  her  health  by  a  visit  to  the  Bohemian 
baths;  and  finding  that  her  representations  made  no  impres- 
sion on  the  obdurate  monarch,  she  determined  to  neglect  her 
professional  duties,  in  the  hope  of  being  dismissed. 

It  chanced  that  the  Czarovitch,  Paul  I.  of  Russia,  paid  a  visit 
to  the  Prussian  capital  at  this  juncture,  July,  1780,  to  demand 
the  hand  of  the  Princess  of  Wirtemberg,  and  Berlin  was  in  a 
state  of  extraordinary  excitement.  Old  Frederick  set  the  ex- 
ample of  lavish  magnificence,  and  his  loyal  subjects  followed 
suit.  Those  who  could  afford,  and  many  who  could  not,  ex- 
pended hundreds  of  crowns  in  lace  and  embroidery ;  while 
others  who  were  more  prudent  either  retired  to  the  country, 
or  else  confined  themselves  to  their  houses.  The  Opera  was 
in  full  preparation.  At  one  of  the  rehearsals  Jean  Mara  mali- 
ciously observed  that  he  believed  the  composer  understood 
more  of  soldiery  than  of  music ;  and  as  this  Avas  not  the  first 
sarcasm  of  the  kind  he  had  been  imprudent  enough  to  indulge 
in,  he  was,  by  command  of  the  great  Frederick,  made  over  to 
the  corps  de  garde,  with  strict  orders  to  correct  him  for  his  in- 
solence. Xo  particular  mode  of  punishment  was  prescribed, 
so  each  soldier  inflicted  such  chastisement  as  he  considered 
most  fitting.  They  began  by  rigging  him  out  in  an  old  uni- 
form and  a  large  pair  of  whiskers,  loading  him  with  the 
heaviest  firelock  they  could  find,  and  forced  him  to  go  through 
the  manual  exercise  for  two  hours,  accompanying  their  drill 
with  the  usual  discipline  of  the  cane.  They  then  made  him 
dance  and  sing  for  two  hours  longer,  and  ended  this  persecu- 


GEETKUDE  ELIZABETH  MABA.  107 

tion  by  compelling  the  surgeon  to  take  from  him  a  large  quan- 
tity of  blood.  In  a  miserable  condition  they  restored  him  to 
his  disconsolate  Avife,  Avho  had  been  essaying  all  her  arts  to 
persuade  the  officer  of  the  guard  to  mitigate  the  poor  wretch's 
punishment. 

Madame  Mara  was  announced  to  appear  in  one  of  her  great 
parts  in  the  opera;  but  now,  being  bent  on  eflecting  her  es- 
cape, she  feigned  illness.  Her  royal  patron  sent  her  notice  in 
the  morning  that  she  was  to  get  well  and  sing  her  best.  She 
immediately  grew  worse ;  in  short,  she  was  unable  to  leave 
her  bed.  Two  hours  before  the  opera  commenced,  a  carriage, 
escorted  by  eight  soldiers,  drew  up  in  front  of  her  house,  and 
the  captain  of  the  guard  unceremoniously  entered  her  cham- 
ber, intimating  that  he  had  orders  to  bring  her  to  the  theatre 
"dead  or  alive."     The  ire  of  madame  rose. 

"  You  can  not,"  she  exclaimed,  Avith  tears  of  rage.  "  You 
see  I  am  in  bed." 

"That  is  of  little  consequence,"  imperturbably  responded  the 
captain  of  the  guard.     "We  will  take  you  bed  and  all." 

Madame  Mara's  eyes  flashed  fire ;  but,  reading  determina- 
tion in  every  line  of  the  obdurate  officer's  countenance,  she 
prudently  demanded  an  armistice.  "I  will  go  to  the  theatre," 
she  said,  mentally  resolving  to  sing  so  badly  as,  with  a  mag- 
nificent voice  and  irreproachable  taste,  she  could  possibly  man- 
age. Resolutely  she  kept  to  this  idea  till  the  curtain  was 
about  to  descend  on  the  first  act,  when  a  tliought  suddenly 
seized  her.  Might  she  not  be  ruining  herself  in  giving  the 
Grand  Duke  of  Russia  a  bad  opinion  of  her  powers  ?  In  a 
bravura  she  burst  forth  in  all  her  brilliance  and  glory,  distin- 
guishing herself  especially  by  a  marvelous  shake,  wliich  she 
executed  with  such  wonderful  arti  as  to  call  down  thunders  of 
applause. 

Ilaving  thus  voluntarily  abandoned  her  first  line  of  tactics, 
she  tried  another,  and  resolved  to  make  her  escape  by  means 
of  a  large  harpsichord  which  she  greatly  valued,  and  Avhich 
seemed  to  the  king  a  security  for  its  mistress.  Pretending 
that  she  desired  to  have  it  repaired,  she  had  it  removed ;  but, 
instead  of  having  it  brought  back  to  her  house,  she  sent  it  out 
of  the  kingdom,  and  prei)ared  to  follow  it.  Her  husband  ac- 
companied her.  They  intended  to  reach  Vienna  by  route  of 
Saxony  and  Bohemia,  whence  they  might  make  their  way  to 


108  QUEENS    OF   SONG. 

Paris  and  London.  An  officer  attempted  to  detain  them  on 
the  frontier,  when  Madame  Mara  quietly  drew  a  letter  from 
her  pocket,  and  held  it  toward  him,  declaring  that  the  king  had 
changed  his  mind.  "  Here  is  his  permission,"  she  said,  with 
the  utmost  self-possession,  "  in  which  he  has  given  me  leave  to 
go."  The  letter  was  actually  from  the  great  Frederick,  but 
its  purport  was  of  a  very  diflerent  nature  to  what  she  repre- 
sented. The  officer,  knowing  her  influence  at  court,  did  not 
venture  to  do  more  than  glance  respectfully  at  the  royal  signa- 
ture, and  allowed  her  to  jDass  without  farther  questioning. 
They  had  just  gained  the  gates  of  Dresden,  when  they  found 
that  the  Prussian  charge  d'aflaires  resided  in  the  city.  "  No 
one  can  conceive  my  agitation  and  alarm,"  said  Madame  Ma- 
ra, "  when,  in  one  of  the  first  streets  Ave  entered,  we  encount- 
ered the  said  charge  d'aflaires,  who  rode  direct  up  to  us.  He 
had  been  apprised  of  our  arrival,  and  the  chaise  was  instantly 
stopped.  As  to  what  took  place  between  him  and  my  good 
man,  and  how  the  latter  contrived  to  get  out  of  the  scrape,  I 
was  totally  unconscious.  I  had  fallen  into  a  swoon,  from  which 
I  did  not  recover  till  we  had  reached  our  inn."  At  length  they 
reached  the  confines  of  Bohemia,  and  for  the  first  time  supped 
in  freedom  and  secui-ity. 

The  fugitives  reached  Vienna  in  the  beginning  of  March, 
1780.  Frederick  dispatched  a  messenger  to  the  Emperor  Jo- 
seph, begging  him  to  arrest  them.  The  good,  eccentric  Joseph 
was  too  kind-hearted  to  do  any  thing  of  the  sort;  but  he  gave 
the  pair  a  hint  that,  as  there  was  no  resisting  the  requests  of 
the  King  of  Prussia,  their  wisest  course  would  be  to  get  away 
as  fast  as  possible,  so  that  he  might  inform  his  royal  neighbor 
that  the  messenger  arrived  too  late. 

When  the  alarm  had  subsided,  Madame  Mara  appeared  in 
Vienna.  Although  so  eminent  in  Berlin,  the  Viennese  had 
scarcely  heard  of  the  Mara,  and  she  made  a  very  slight  impres- 
sion. The  Italian  singers  cabaled  against  her,  determined  to 
prevent  her  from  having  any  access  to  the  art-loving  Maria 
Teresa ;  but  the  queen,  who  liked  to  know  every  thing  about 
every  body,  sent  for  her,  and  was  as  kind  as  her  son  Joseph 
had  been.  She  treated  her  Avith  the  greatest  condescension, 
and  became  her  warmest  patron.  Henceforth  Mara's  success 
was  assured ;  and,  after  a  stay  of  nearly  two  years,  she  determ- 
ined on  a  iourney  to  Paris,  taking  Avith  her  autograph  letters 


GERTRUDE   ELIZABETH   MARA.  109 

of  introduction,  wliicli  her  illustriov;s  patroness  had  written  be- 
fore her  death  to  her  daughter,  the  beautiful  Marie  Antoinette. 

Madame  Todi  was  then  in  the  zenitli  of  her  fame,  the  object 
of  the  enthusiastic  homage  of  the  Parisians.  But  Madame 
Mara  sang  before  the  royal  family  at  Versailles,  and  appeared 
in  public  in  Paris,  and  was  immediately  elected  a  rival  of  the 
Portuguese  prima  donna ;  the  French  dividing  into  two  oppo- 
sition parties,  one  for  Mara,  the  other  for  Todi.  It  was  not 
long  before  Mara  was  honored  with  the  title  ofjjremih'e  can- 
tatrice  de  la  reine.  The  queen  gave  her  many  testimonies  of 
regard,  and  was  very  kind  to  her.  Having  a  desire  to  visit 
Italy,  Mara  on  one  occasion  mentioned  her  wish  to  her  majes- 
ty. Marie  Antoinette  listened,  a,nd  then  replied,  sadly,  "  Do 
not  go  to  Italy.  You  would  expose  yourself  to  danger  in  so 
doing,  and  life  is  but  too  precious  to  us."  The  prophetic  tone 
in  which  this  was  uttered,  although  there  appeared  to  have 
been  no  ground  for  the  queen's  fears,  struck  a  chill  to  the  heart 
of  Mara,  and  she  gave  up  the  idea,  accepting  in  lieu  an  engage- 
ment offered  by  the  directors  of  the  London  Pantheon,  who 
gave  her  a  thousand  guineas  for  thirteen  nights. 

Madame  Mara  left  Paris  with  her  husband,  and  arrived  in 
London  in  1Y84.  Her  reception  by  the  public  was  enthusiast- 
ic ;  and  so  great  was  the  attraction,  that  the  receipts  of  the 
house  are  stated  to  have  amounted  to  an  enormous  sum.  The 
Prince  of  Wales  patronized  her,  and  she  became  "the  fashion" 
at  once.  Unfortunately  for  the  continuance  of  her  popularity, 
that  was  a  bad  year  for  the  Pantheon ;  a  dissolution  of  Parlia- 
ment and  general  election  absorbed  the  attention  oftlie  public 
to  an  extent  that  was  seriously  injurious  to  the  theatres  and 
other  places  of  amusement. 

On  the  expiration  of  her  engagement  at  the  Pantheon,  Mara 
entered  into  a  joint  proprietorship  with  Linley  and  Dr.  Arnold 
for  the  production  of  oratorios  at  Drury  Lane. 

"When  Madame  Mara  appeared  in  London,  it  happened  that 
George  III.  conceived  the  idea  of  paying  a  grand  tribute  to 
the  memory  of  his  favorite  composer,  the  immortal  Ilandcl, 
and  it  was  decided  that  a  selection  of  music  exclusively  from 
the  works  of  that  great  master  should  be  performed  in  West- 
minster Abbey.  The  directors  were  in  sore  distress  for  a  lead- 
ing female  singer,  as  there  were  at  this  time  but  few  first-class 
singers  ia  London,  and  these  were  either  pre-engaged,  or  dif- 


110  QUEENS   OF   SONG. 

fident  of  their  power  of  making  their  voices  heard  to  advan- 
tage in  an  enormous  building  like  Westminster  Abbey.  Mara, 
wishing  to  overcome  an  unfavorable  impression  which  had 
lately  gained  ground  against  her,  and  also  to  pay  honor  to  her 
distinguished  countryman,  volunteered  her  gratuitous  services. 
Her  offer  was  gladly  accepted,  the  directors  of  the  Pantheon 
giving  their  consent  to  her  appearance. 

It  would  be  impossible  in  words  to  give  even  a  faint  idea 
of  the  effect  of  that  magnificent  festival.  The  orchestra  was 
led  by  the  Cramers ;  the  conductors  were  Joah  Bates,  Dr. 
Arnold,  and  Dupuis.  The  band  consisted  of  several  hundreds 
of  performers.  The  singers  were,  in  addition  to  Madame  Mara, 
Signora  Storace,  Miss  Abrams,  Miss  Poole  (afterward  Mrs. 
Dickons),  Rubinelli,  Harrison,  Bartleman,  Sale,  Parry,  Norris, 
Kelly,  etc. ;  and  the  choruses,  collected  from  all  parts  of  the 
kingdom,  amounted  to  hundreds  of  voices.  The  Abbey  was 
arranged  for  the  accommodation  of  the  public  in  a  superb  and 
commodious  manner,  and  the  tickets  of  admission  were  one 
guinea  each.  The  first  performance  took  i^lace  on  May  26, 
1784 ;  and  such  was  the  anxiety  to  be  in  time,  that  ladies  and 
gentlemen  had  their  hair  dressed  overnight,  and  slej^t  in  arm- 
chairs. The  weather  being  very  fine,  eager  crowds  presented 
themselves  at  the  several  doors  of  the  Abbey  at  nine  o'clock, 
although  the  door-keepers  were  not  at  their  posts,  and  the  or- 
chestra was  not  finished.  At  ten  o'clock  the  scene  became 
almost  terrifying  to  the  visitors,  who,  being  in  full  dress,  were 
every  moment  more  incommoded  and  alarmed  by  the  violence 
of  the  crowds  pressing  forward  to  get  near  the  doors.  Sev- 
eral of  the  ladies  screamed ;  others  fainted ;  and  the  general 
dismay  increased  to  such  an  extent  that  fatal  consequences 
were  anticipated.  Some  of  the  more  irascible  among  the  gen- 
tlemen threatened  to  burst  open  the  doors ;  "  a  measure,"  says 
Dr.  Burney,  "  which,  if  adopted,  would  probably  have  cost 
many  of  the  more  feeble  and  helpless  their  lives,  as  they  must, 
in  fi^lling,  have  been  thrown  down  and  trampled  on  by  the  ro- 
bust and  impatient  part  of  the  crowd."  However,  except  that 
some  went  in  with  "  disheveled  hair  and  torn  garments,"  no 
real  mischief  seems  to  have  been  done. 

The  spectacle  was  gorgeous.  The  king,  queen,  and  all  the 
royal  family  were  ushered  to  a  superb  box,  opposite  the  or- 
chestra, by  the  directors,  wearing  full  court  suits,  the  medal  of 


GEETEUDE  ELIZABETH   MAEA.  Ill 

Handel,  struck  for  the  occasion,  suspended  by  "wMte  satin  ro- 
settes to  their  breasts,  and  having  white  staves  in  their  hands. 
The  body  of  the  cathedral,  the  galleries,  and  every  corner,  were 
crowded  with  beauty,  rank,  and  fjishion,  listening  with  almost 
devout  silence  to  the  grand  creations  of  the  great  composer, 
not  the  faintest  token  of  applause  disturbing  the  impressive 
solemnity. 

])Iara  was  superb  in  this  performance,  and  gained  fresh  leaves 
for  her  crown  of  laurel.  She  surpassed  herself  in  the  sublime 
recitative,  "  Sing  ye  to  the  Lord,  for  lie  hath  triumphed  glo- 
riously." The  full,  solemn,  and  affecting  tones  of  her  voice  im- 
pressed every  heart,  and  her  exquisite  style  almost  vanquished 
criticism.  There  were  a  few,  nevertheless,  who  resisted  the 
magic  of  her  tones.  Miss  Seward  was  one  June  morning,  dur- 
ing these  performances,  breakfasting  Avith  Mr.  Joah  Bates,  the 
director,  when  she  remarked,  as  a  delicate  piece  of  flattery  to 
his  wife's  singing  of  Handel's  finest  airs,  that  in  her  opinion 
Mara  put  too  much  gold  and  fringe  upon  that  solemn  robe  of 
melody,  "I  know  that  my  Redeemer  liveth." 

"  Do  not  say  gold,  madam,"  repUed  Joah,  tartly ;  "  it  was 
despicable  tinsel." 

He  was  yet  perfectly  conscious  of  the  Mara's  magnificent 
qualities,  and  perhaps  he  had  been  put  out  of  temper  by  some 
of  the  cantati'ice's  impertinences.  A  more  innocent  critic  pro- 
nounced a  judgment  on  her  performance  about  the  same  time 
— the  daughter  of  a  nobleman,  who  was  taken  by  her  papa  to 
hear  the  great  vocalist.  On  the  conclusion  of  "  Holy,  holy," 
the  young  lady  continued  standing  as  if  entranced,  until  roused 
by  some  persons  near  her  sneering  at  Mara's  dress.  Turning 
round  suddenly,  with  an  indignant  look,  she  exclaimed,  "  She 
will  go  to  heaven,  for  all  that,  to  sing  Allelujah." 

The  second  performance  was  at  the  Pantheon,  on  Tuesday 
evening.  May  27th.  The  audience  assembled  very  early  for 
fear  of  not  gaining  admittance,  and  the  crowd  was  excessive. 
"The  extreme  heat  of  the  weather,"  observes  Dr.  Burney, 
"  augmented  by  the  animal  heat  of  more  than  1600  people, 
closely  wedged  together,  must  have  considerably  diminished 
the  delight  which  the  lovers  of  music  expected  to  receive  from 
this  night's  exhibition."  This  evening  Mara  produced  a  tre- 
mendous efiect  in  ""While  I  retire,"  from  Afahoita. 

The  three  remaining  performances  were  held  at  "Westminster 


112  QUEENS   OP   SONG. 

Abbey,  May  29th,  Juno  3d,  aud  June  5th.  During  one  of  them 
a  striking  coincidence  happened.  The  morning  had  been 
cloudy  and  lowering ;  but  when  the  grand  cliorus  commenced, 
"Let  there  be  light,  and  light  was  over  all,"  the  sun  burst 
forth,  and  with  its  rays  illumined  every  part  of  the  venerable 
buildino-.  On  another  occasion,  during  one  of  the  choruses 
descriptive  of  a  storm,  a  hurricane  burst  over  the  Abbey,  and 
pealed,  and  thundered,  and  rattled  in  unison  with  the  music. 
But  perhaps  the  most  effective  spectacle  was  presented  during 
the  performance  of  the  chorus,  "The  Lord  God  omnipotent 
reigneth."  The  audience  were  so  moved  that  the  king,  queen, 
and  all  present,  rose  by  a  simultaneous  impulse,  and  remained 
standing  till  the  close  of  the  chorus.  From  this  time  it  grew 
to'be  the  fashion  to  stand  while  that  part  of  the  music  was  be- 
ing executed. 

Madame  Mara  gave  great  offense  by  persisting  in  retaining 
her  seat  while  the  royal  fomily,  with  all  who  were  present  be- 
sides— the  principal  nobility  and  gentry  of  the  kingdom — stood 
up.  She  offered  many  excuses  for  her  conduct:  she  was  not 
accustomed  to  join  in  the  choruses  abroad,  and  did  not  think 
it  necessary  to  rise  till  her  solos  came ;  she  was  ill ;  her  med- 
ical adviser  had  prohibited  her  from  standing  unless  under 
positive  necessity.  Her  supposed  perversity  became  known 
at  Oxford,  where  she  was  engaged  for  the  Grand  Musical  Meet- 
ing, and  the  people  of  that  city  resolved  to  teach  her  a  lesson. 
Upon  her  appearance  in  the  theatre,  she  was  called  upon  from 
all  sides  to  explain  whether  she  meant  to  pi'actice  the  same 
disrespect  there.  She  did  not  make  any  reply,  not  understand- 
ing a  word  of  what  they  were  saying ;  but  Dr.  Hayes,  a  wor- 
thy professor,  whose  leading  characteristic  was  a  love  of 
"  speechifying,"  came  forward  to  assure  the  audience  that 
Madame  Mara  w^ould  stand  up  during  the  execution  of  the 
choruses.  In  his  eagei'ness  to  allay  the  storm  of  indignation, 
however,  he  blundered  egrcgiously,  and  made  an  absurd  and 
childish  mistake ;  the  audience  laughed,  and  seemed  inclined 
to  recover  their  good-humor,  when  she  again  offended.  One 
of  the  musicians  in  the  orchestra  happened  to  play  a  little  out 
of  tune,  when  Mara,  in  a  passion,  turned  and  flung  her  book 
at  the  delinquent.  This  outburst  of  irritability  hurt  the  feel- 
ings of  Dr.  Chapman,  then  vice-chancellor,  and  he  rose,  ex- 
claiming, "  Madame  Mara  has  conducted  herself  too  ill  to  be 


GERTRUDE   ELIZABETH    MARA.  113 

suffered  to  sing  any  more  before  this  audience."  Instantly  a 
wicked  wag  cried  out,  "A  riot,  by  permission  of  the  vice-chan- 
cellor !"  A  scene  of  the  utmost  confusion  ensued,  and  the  agi- 
tated cantatrice  quitted  the  theatre  amid  hisses  and  yells,  in 
high  dudgeon.  A  deputation  of  gentlemen  waited  upon  her, 
and  promised  that  she  should  do  exactly  as  she  pleased  if  she 
would  only  return.  She  did  return,  and  sang  the  airs  allotted 
to  her,  but  remained  seated  as  usual  while  the  choruses  were 
being  sung.  A  cry  arose  of  "Turn  Mara  out !"  Not  compre- 
hending, she  smiled, which  provoked  the  audience  still  more; 
upon  which  the  vice-chancellor  said  that  it  was  always  the 
rule  for  every  vocalist  to  join  in  the  choruses.  Miss  George, 
one  of  the  singers,  explained  this  to  the  prima  donna,  who,  star- 
ing in  bewilderment  and  vexation,  exclaimed,  "  Oh !  me  does 
not  know  his  rules ;  me  vil  go  home ;"  which  resolution  she 
immediately  carried  into  effect. 

Madame  Mara  never  could  acquire  a  command  of  the  En- 
glish language,  although  she  passed  some  time  in  this  country, 
and  had  been  here  Avhen  a  child.  But  such  was  her  fire,  dig- 
nity, and  tenderness,  that  even  those  who  were  the  most  keen- 
ly sensible  to  the  ridiculous  effects  of  mispronunciation  never 
could  smile  at  her  mistakes. 

Dr.  Chapman  made  her  formally  acquainted  with  the  dis- 
pleasure of  the  whole  body  of  gownsmen,  and  jirohibited  her 
from  ever  singing  again  at  the  University.  Indeed,  he  went 
so  far  as  to  announce  in  the  Oxford  Journal  that  "the  unbe- 
coming conduct  of  Madame  ]\[ara  has  given  rise  to  just  com- 
plaints ;  but  we  doubt  not  that,  as  the  Oxonians  have  taken 
upon  them  to  become  her  tutors,  she  will  henceforth  know  bet- 
ter how  to  comport  herself" 

To  this  Mara  published  an  angry  reply  in  the  same  journal, 
trying  to  exculpate  herself.  "  As  to  Dr.  Chapman,"  she  dis- 
dainfully concluded, "he  deserves  nothing  but  my  pity." 

She  acquired  a  great  reputation  as  a  singer  of  sacred  music, 
and  the  directors  of  the  Ancient  Concerts  engaged  her  in  1785. 
It  had  not  been  her  intention  at  first  to  appear  on  the  stage, 
but  chance  enlisted  her  under  the  operatic  standard.  It  was 
soon  after  her  debut  in  the  metropolis  that  Michael  Kelly, 
shortly  after  his  return  from  Italy,  happened  one  evening  to 
offend  her.  She  was  in  the  green-room  of  Drury  Lane,  with 
some  other  ladies,  at  the  conclusion  of  the  first  part  of  an  ora- 
8 


114  QUEENS    OP   SONG. 

torio,  Avhen  Dr.  Arnold,  turning  to  tlie  young  composer,  said, 
"  Pray,  Mr.  Kelly,  tell  us  what  sort  of  a  singer  is  Signora  Stor- 
ace  ?"  He  replied  that  iu  his  opinion  she  was  "  the  best  sing- 
er in  Europe,"  meaning  "  in  her  line."  Madame  Mara,  highly 
offended,  on  Kelly's  quitting  the  room,  said  that  he  was  an  im- 
pertinent coxcomb ;  and,  actuated  by  professional  jealousy, 
she  exerted  herself  to  prevent  his  being  engaged  by  Dr.  Ar- 
nold and  Linley  during  the  summer.  By  a  fortunate  accident, 
Kelly  was  enabled  to  atone  for  his  offense.  He  went  one  night 
into  the  green-room  to  speak  to  Mrs.  Croucli,  but  found  the  sole 
occupants  of  the  apartment  Madame  Mara  and  M.Ponte,  first 
French-horn  player  to  the  King  of  Prussia,  an  intimate  friend 
of  Mara's,  who  was  engaged  to  perform  a  concerto  at  the  ora- 
torio. This  gentleman  said  to  Mara  iu  German,  "My  dear 
friend,  my  lips  are  so  parched  with  fear  that  I  am  sure  I  sliall 
not  make  a  sound  on  the  instrument.  I  would  give  the  world 
for  a  little  water  or  beer  to  moisten  my  lips."  "  There  is  no- 
body to  send,"  replied  Madame  Mara,  in  the  same  language ; 
"  and  yet,  if  I  knew  where  to  get  something  for  you  to  drink, 
I  would  go  myself"  Kelly,  who  Avas  standing  at  the  fire,  ad- 
dressed the  cantatrice  in  German,  and  said,  "Madame, I  should 
be  sorry  for  you  to  have  that  trouble,  and  I  sit  lazy  by ;  I  v^ill 
with  great  pleasure  go  and  get  M.  Ponte  some  porter."  He 
accordingly  dispatched  a  messenger  for  a  foaming  tankard,  and 
on  its  arrival  he  handed  it  to  the  thirsty  and  grateful  musician, 
who  at  that  instant  was  summoned  to  play  his  concerto.  Ma- 
dame Mara  gracefully  thanked  Kelly  for  his  attention,  and 
gave  him  a  Avarm  invitation  to  call  at  her  house  in  Pall  Mall — 
an  invitatioh  Avhich  he  was  so  glad  to  receive  that  the  next 
day,  at  two  o'clock,  he  presented  himself  During  the  inter- 
view which  passed,  she  frankly  told  him  that  she  had  taken  a 
violent  dislike  to  him,  but  that  his  kindness  to  her  timid  friend 
on  the  preceding  evening  had  gained  her  heart.  Having  thus 
apologized,  she  inquired  pointedly  if  he  took  a  benefit  at  the 
theatre  that  season.  On  learning  that  he  purposed  so  doing, 
she  said,  "It  Avas  my  intention  not  to  appear  on  the  stage; 
yet,  if  you  think  my  playing  for  your  benefit  for  the  first  and 
only  time  will  be  of  service  to  you,  I  beg  you  will  command 
me." 

"  I  Avas  thunderstruck  at  her  kindness  and  liberality,"  says 
Kelly,  "  and  thankfully  accepted.     She  fixed  on  Mandane,  in 


\ 


GERTRUDE   ELIZABETH   MARA. 


115 


Artaxerxes,  and  brouglit  the  greatest  receipt  ever  known  at 
that  house,  as  the  whole  pit,  with  the  exception  of  two  benches, 
was  railed  into  boxes.  So  much,"  he  adds,  sententiously,  "for 
a  little  German  proficiency,  a  little  common  civility,  and  a  pot 
of  porter."  It  was  a  wonderful  act  of  condescension  on  her 
part,  for  she  was  as  obstinate  as  she  was  gifted. 

Madame  Mara  proved  so  valuable  an  addition  to  the  Opera 
company  that  she  was  persuaded  to  remain  on  the  stage.  It 
was  with  difficulty  that  arrangements  Avere  made  for  opening 
the  Opera  House  in  the  beginning  of  178G.  The  bankruptcy 
being  settled,  Sir  John  Gallini  was  now  the  happy  individual 
"  invested  with  the  power  of  ruining  himself."  No  perform- 
ers having  arrived  from  Italy,  the  company  was  not  completed 
till  the  middle  of  the  season,  when  Madame  Mara  became  for 
a  thne  the  sole  support  of  the  establishment.  There  was  no 
leading  male  singer,  so  the  weak  and  unequal,  though  scientific 
Babbini  was  promoted  to  first  parts,  his  own  being  consigned 
to  Tasca,  a  bass  singer  who  had  appeared  in  the  comic  opera 
of  the  preceding  year.  The  first  opera  was  DUlone  Ahhando- 
nata^  a  pasticcio,  for  which  the  Mara  had  made  a  very  judi- 
cious selection  of  songs  from  Sacchini,  Piccini,  Mortcllari,  Gaz- 
zaniga,  and  other  eminent  composers ;  "  all  of  which  were  so 
much  admired,"  says  Lord  Mount  Edgecumbe,  "that  two 
were  encored  every  night,  each  of  them  receiving  that  mark 
of  approbation  in  its  turn,"  a  token  of  admiration  never  ac- 
corded before  to  any  other  singer  except  Manzoli.  Her  own 
performance  in  this  opera  was  perfect,  and  gave  entire  satis- 
faction. 

In  addition  to  singing  at  the  Opera,  Mara  appeared  at  vari- 
ous musical  festivals.  That  season  she  sang  at  Worcester,  her 
husband  too  being  engaged  among  the  leading  instrumentalists. 
He  was  now  as  attentive  as  possible  to  his  Avife.  Once,  while 
on  a  visit  to  the  Earl  of  Exeter,  at  that  nobleman's  splendid 
seat,  Burleigh,  near  Stamford,  in  Lincolnshire,  Madame  Mara 
expressed  in  private  her  distaste  for  the  earl's  claret.  Mara 
immediately  sent  a  servant  to  Stamford  for  a  post-chaise  and 
four  horses,  with  which  he  dashed  oflTto  London,  and  returned 
the  next  morning  Avith  a  case  of  claret  from  her  OAvn  cellar. 
Certainly  he  Avas  to  assist  in  drinking  it. 

In  1788,  Mara  Avent  to  Turin  for  the  season  of  the  Carnival. 
At  the  theatre  there  it  was  an  established  custom  to  open  the 


J 


116  QTTEENS    OF   SOJfG. 


new  season  with  a  fresh  singer,  who  supplied  the  place  of  the     i 
departing  vocalist,  whether  a  soprano  or  a  tenor.    The  tenor    '• 
whom  she  was  to  succeed,  piqued  at  his  dismissal,  and  anxious 
to  prevent  her  success,  ridiculed  her  as  a  perfect  monster  of      \ 
ugliness,  and  an  abominably  bad  singer.    Mara  heard  this,  and 
devised  a  plan  for  mortifying  the  Italian.     At  her  first  re-      j 
hearsal,  she  made  her  appearance  in  a  formal  old-fashioned     / 
dress,  and,  laughing  to  herself  at  the  joke,  sang  as  much  out 
of  tune  as  possible.     Sure  of  his  triumph,  the  signor  went      i 
about  saying  to  every  body  he  knew,  "  Didn't  I  say  so  ?     In      1 
person  she  is  as  ugly  as  sin ;  and  her  voice — never  was  heard       i 
so  vile  a  jargon  of  sounds."     What  was  his  dismay  when,  the 
following  evening,  Madame  Mara  presented  herself  dressed 
with  simple  elegance,  and  sang  in  a  voice  sweet  as  music  itself, 
with  an  air  of  conscious  supei'iority.     The  signor  vanished, 
and  was  never  heard  of  more  in  Turin.     The  German  sons:- 
stress  was  crowned  upon  the  stage,  and  the  next  day  was  hon- 
ored by  an  invitation  to  court,  where  she  was  received  by  the 
king  and  queen  with  the  most  condescending  kindness,  and 
loaded  with  rich  pi-esents. 

She  went  from  Turin  to  Venice,  where  she  had  again  to 
contend  against  the  jealousy  of  the  Italian  singers.  But  her 
reception  by  the  public  was  enthusiastic;  and  on  the  night 
which  terminated  her  engagement,  an  unexpected  ovation  was 
organized  for  her.  On  the  fall  of  the  curtain,  when  recalled, 
she  found  a  richly  decorated  throne  prepared.  She  was  seated 
thereon,  when  the  canvas  clouds  above  opened,  and  a  shower 
of  roses,  intermingled  with  complimentary  sonnets,  rained 
down,  and  the  curtain  rising  behind  her  discovered  the  figures 
of  Apollo  and  the  Muses  pointing  toward  her  with  admiring 
looks.  A  deputation  of  ladies  and  gentlemen  then  waited  on 
her  with  congratulations,  and  she  was  induced  to  j^romise  that 
she  would  return  the  following  season. 

After  this  she  was  invited  to  Rome  and  XajDles,  but  she  pre- 
ferred to  return  to  Loudon,  where  she  arrived  in  1790.  Dur- 
ing that  season  she  appeared  at  the  Gloucester  Musical  Festi- 
val, her  husband  being,  as  usual,  among  the  principal  instru- 
mental performers. 

Unforeseen  difiiculties  preventing  the  King's  Theatre  from 
opening  the  next  season,  the  Pantheon  was  transformed  into 
a  temporary  Opera  House  by  Mr.  "NVyatt,  who  ingeniously 


GEETEUDE   ELIZABETH   MAKA.  117 

contrived  to  enlarge  the  building  without  injuring  it.  The 
regular  opera  was  here  very  successfully  carried  on.  Mara, 
Pacchierotti,  and  Lazzarini — a  pleasing  singer  with  a  sweet 
tenor  voice — vv^ere  at  the  head  of  the  serious  opera,  and  Casen- 
tini,  "  a  very  pretty  woman  and  genteel  actress,"  Avith  Lazza- 
rini for  tenor,  Morelli  and  Cipriani,  principal  buflbs,  supported 
the  comic.  "  It  was  the  first  time  Pacchierotti  had  met  with 
a  good  prima  donna  since  Madame  Lebrun,"  remarks  Lord 
Mount  Edgecumbe.  "  His  duettos  with  Mara  were  the  most 
perfect  pieces  of  execution  I  ever  heard."  They  appeared  in 
Sacchiui's  Minaldo^  Bertoni's  Quinto  Fabio  (revived),  and  a 
charming  new  piece  by  Sarti,  called  Idalide ;  or,  ia  Vergine 
dd  Sole.  Lord  Mount  Edgecumbe  decides  that,  altogether, 
ho  never  enjoyed  the  Opera  so  well  as  at  this  theatre. 

In  1 792,  Mara,  intending  to  return  to  Germany,  went  to  Par- 
is, where  she  witnessed  the  horrors  of  the  Revolution,  and  saw 
the  mob  accompanying  the  unhappy  queen  to  the  Temple. 
With  a  thrill  of  grief,  she  beheld  her  former  patroness,  with  a 
countenance  pale  and  wan,  seated  in  an  open  chariot,  surround- 
ed by  guards  with  drawn  swords.  On  returning  to  England 
she  arranged  her  domestic  affairs.  Her  husband  had  exhaust- 
ed her  patience  by  his  extravagance  and  vices,  and,  painful  as 
the  alternative  was,  she  felt  that  she  must  separate  from  him 
forever.  She  settled  on  him  an  annuity  sufficient  to  afford  him 
a  competency  for  life,  and  from  that  time  they  never  met. 

Harris,  of  the  Theatre  Royal,  Dublin,  engaged  Madame 
Mara  in  1797;  and,  despite  her  personal  disadvantages — which 
were  great  to  those  who  had  seen  the  resplendent  Mrs.  Billing- 
ton  or  the  lovely  Mrs.  Crouch  in  the  character — she  chose  to 
ippear  as  Polly,  which  she  did  Avith  undoubted  success.  "She 
could  not  sing  ill,  but  she  was  not  exactly  suited  for  the  pretty 
Polly  of  the  Beggar's  Opera^''  was  Mount  Edgecumbe's  re- 
mark. She  sang  the  airs  Avith  a  delicious  simplicity,  scarcely 
ever  calling  in  the  aid  of  a  shako  or  a  roulade.  Pure  enuncia- 
tion, and  the  most  precise  intonation  of  the  scale,  Avcre  Avhat 
she  particularly  aimed  at.  Dr.  Arnold  said  that  he  had  seen 
her  dance,  and  go  through  the  most  violent  and  fatiguing  ges- 
ticulations Avhilc  running  through  the  scale,  yet  such  Avas  her 
power  of  chest  that  the  tone  Avas  as  undisturbed  and  free  as  if 
she  had  been  standing  in  the  sedate  position  of  the  orchestra. 
Mrs.  Billington,  Avho  had  no  professional  jealousies,  declared 


V 


118  QUEEIN-S   OF  SONO. 

that  she  considered  Mava's  execution  to  be  superior  to  her 
own  in  genuine  effect,  though  not  in  extent,  compass,  rapidity, 
and  compHcation.     "  She  was  by  turns  majestic,  tender,  pa- 
thetic, or  elegant,"  and  neither  in  ornament,  graces,  nor  in  ca- 
dences did  she  ever  lose  sight  of  the  original  character  of  the 
melody.     If  any  one  praised  the  rapid  vocalization  of  a  singer, 
,     Mara  would  significantly  demand,  "Can  she  slug  six  plain 
;     notes?"     To  a  full,  rich-toned  voice  she  added, however, when 
/     the  occasion  called  for  it,  brilliant  execution,  and  a  pathos  and 
/      elevation  of  sentiment  which  rendered  her  at  once  the  finest 
/       bravura  and  oratorio  sinsrer  ever  heard.     Her  renderiuo-  of 
Handel's  airs — especially  "  I  know  that  my  Redeemer  liveth" 
—  was  faultless.     Her  contempt  for  nnmeaning  florid  orna- 
mentation was  once  very  forcibly  expressed.    Being  one  night 
at  the  Lent  oratorio,  and  hearing  one  of  the  female  singers  go- 
ing through  some  of  her  own  favorite  pieces,  she  was  asked  by 
a  lady  who  sat  next  her  what  she  thought  of  the  singer's  per-     * 
X        formance".    "  Ma'am,"  she  replied,  "  she  dances  a  tolerably  good      \      i 
\       fandango."    She  was  a  thoroughly  scientific  vocalist,  and  a  pet       \ 
•       theory  with  her  was,  that  the  best  way  to  begin  the  education        \ 
of  a  singer  would  be  to  teach  the  pupil  to  tune  an  instrument 
or  to  play  on  the  violin.     She  declared  that  if  she  had  a  daugh-         i 
ter,  the  child  should  "  learn  the  fiddle"  before  she  uttered  a         ' 
note ;  "  for,"  said  she, "  how  can  you  best  convey  a  just  notion 
of  slight  variations  in  the  pitch  of  a  note — by  a  fixed  instru- 
;         ment  ?     No.     By  the  voice  ?     No.    But  by  sliding  the  finger 
\        up  the  string  you  instantly  make  the  most  minute  variations 

visibly  as  well  as  audibly  perceptible."  _^ 

"  Madame  Mara,  during  her  residence  in  this  country,  taught 
singing  at  home  at  two  guineas  per  lesson,"  says  Dr.  Kitch- 
ener.    "  I  mentioned  to  her  that  I  feared  the  expense,  being- 
double  any  other  musician,  would  confine  her  number.     She 
I      said, '  Well,  I  can  not  help  that :  when  I  give  a  lesson  in  sing- 
;      ing,  I  sing  with  my  scholars ;  by  so  doing  they  learn  in  half 
i      the  time  they  can  if  taught  in  the  usual  way — by  the  master 
merely  playing  the  tune  of  the  song  on  the  piano.     People  can 
not  teach  what  they  don't  know — my  scholars  have  my  sing- 
ing to  imitate — those  of  other  masters  seldom  any  thing  but 
i        the  tinkling  of  a  piano.     The  fatigue  to  the  teacher,  and  the 
\        superior  ability  required  to  teach  it,  certainly  deserve  double 
\       the  price  paid  for  learning  to  play  on  an  instrument.' "    It  was 


GERTRUDE   ELIZABETH   MARA. 


119 


a  favorite  maxim  of  hers  that  singing  can  only  be  taught  b}'-  a 
singer ;  adding,  that  such  was  the  fatigue  attending  it,  that 
they  should  not  attempt  to  teach  others  till  they  have  done 
singing  in  public  themselves.  She  very  benevolently  gave  gra- 
tuitous lessons  to  several  professional  singers ;  among  others, 
she  instructed  Miss  Povey,  whom  she  jDronounced  to  be  the 
most  promising  singer  she  had  ever  heard  in  England. 

As  time  wore  on,  Mara  began  to  decline  in  voice,  and  con- 
sequently in  favor ;  the  managers  of  the  Opera  no  longer  cared 
to  secure  her  services,  and  she  had  to  content  herself  with 
singing  at  the  Ancient  Music  and  other  concerts  for  a  long 
time.  In  1801,  during  Lent,  she  sang  in  HimdeVs  Ac  is  and 
Galatea,  in  which  she  gave,  for  the  first  time,  "  the  admired 
air"  of  "  Consider,  fond  shepherd."  In  this  she  was  accompa- 
nied on  the  oboe  by  Parke,  who  followed  her  with  such  won- 
derful accuracy  through  all  her  vocal  flights,  that  at  the  termi- 
nation of  the  evening's  performance  she  observed  good-humor- 
edly  to  Dr.  Arnold,  "I  think  that,  in  the  song 'Consider,  fond 
shepherd,'  if  I  could  have  made  a  flight  to  Germany,  Mr.  Parke 
would  have  followed  me."  "  Yes,  madamc,"  replied  the  doc- 
tor, gallantly, "  if  you  had  made  a  flight  to  the  infernal  regions, 
no  doubt  he  would  have  followed  you  there,  to  make  the  Apol- 
lo-like attempt  of  conducting  you,  like  another  Eurydice,  back 
again  to  delight  the  public." 

At  last  she  quitted  England  in  1802,  partly  being  oftended, 
it  was  rumored,  by  some  animadversions  which  had  been  made 
on  a  fracas  which  had  occurred  between  herself  and  her  maid ; 
for  Mara,  who  could  sing  sacred  music  in  so  thrilling  a  manner 
and  with  such  sublimity  of  expression,  had  not  the  softest  of 
tempers  ;  though,  like  most  irascible  j^ersons,  she  behaved 
with  much  courtesy  "  in  company."  She  took  a  formal  leave 
of  the  public  in  a  concert,  which  yielded  about  seven  hundred 
pounds.  Mrs.  Billinglon,  in  compliance  Avith  her  entreaty, 
agreed  to  sing  for  her  at  this  concert ;  and  it  is  said  tliut  Mara 
was  so  overcome  by  her  rival's  generosity,  that  she  burst  into 
tears  on  being  informed  of  her  consent.  The  sister  queens 
sang  a  duct,  composed  expressly  for  the  occasion,  but  of  which 
no  trace  remains. 

"  When  the  incomparable  jMadame  Mara  took  leave  of  me 
on  her  return  to  the  Continent,"  says  Dr.  Kitchener,  "I  could 
not  help  expressing  my  regret  that  she  had  not  taken  my  ad- 


120  QUEENS   OF   SONG. 

vice  to  publish  those  songs  of  Handel  (her  matchless  perform- 
ance of  which  gained  her  that  undisputed  pre-eminence  which 
she  enjoyed),  with  the  embellishments,  etc.,  with  which  she  en- 
riched them.  This  inimitable  singer  replied, '  Indeed,  my  good 
friend,  you  attribute  my  success  to  a  very  diiferent  source  than 
the  real  one.  It  was  not  what  I  did,  but  the  manner  in  which 
I  did  it.  I  could  sing  six  simple  notes  and  j^roduce  every  ef- 
fect I  could  wish ;  another  singer  may  sing  those  very  same 
notes  with  very  different  effect.  I  am  sure  it  was  to  my  ex- 
pression of  the  words  that  I  owe  every  thing.  People  have 
often  said  to  me,  "Madame  Mara,  why  do  not  you  introduce 
more  jDretty  things,  and  passages,  and  graces  in  your  singing  ?" 
I  say,  "  These  pretty  things  are  very  pretty,  to  be  sure,  but  the 
proper  expression  of  the  words  and  the  music  is  a  great  deal 
better." '  This  and  her  extraordinary  industry  were  the  se- 
crets of  her  undisputed  sovereignty.  She  told  me  that  when 
she  was  encored  in  a  song,  which  she  very  often  was,  that  on 
her  return  home  she  seldom  retired  to  rest  without  first  in- 
venting a  new  cadence  for  the  next  performance  of  it.  Here 
is  an  example  for  young  singers!"  -^.~— 

Madame  Mara  went  to  Paris,  whence  she  proceeded  the  fol- 
lowing year  to  Dresden,  where  she  immediately  became  the 
object  of  universal  enthusiasm,  gaining  her  first  plaudits  by  the 
irreproachable  manner  in  which  she  performed  the  part  of 
Agrippina,  in  the  opera  of  J^riiannico,  by  Graun.  Unbound- 
ed admiration  was  excited  by  the  style  in  which  she  sang  be- 
hind the  scenes  the  aria  "Mi  paventi  il  figlio  indegno,"  "with 
a  voice  of  tremendous  power,  and  yet  w^ith  a  maternal  pathos 
that,"  Zelter  affirms,  "  forced  bitter  tears  from  my  eyes  every 
time  I  heard  her.  The  piece," he  adds,  "is  a  regular  bravura 
air,  such  as  was  the  fashion  in  those  days :  it  was  as  if  a  thou- 
sand nightingales  were  straining  their  throats  to  warble  for 
revenge."  Her  acting  was  fine,  though  connoisseurs  some- 
times censured  her  for  Avant  of"  action"  in  passionate  parts — 
hypercriticism  which  made  her  indignant.  "  What !"  she 
would  exclaim,  "  am  I  to  sing  with  my  hands  and  legs  ?  I  am 
a  singer ;  what  I  can  not  do  with  my  voice  I  Avill  not  do  at 
all."  Zelter,  however,  says  that  in  tragic  parts  she  seemed  to 
rise  a  head  taller  than  usual.  "I  never  beheld  any  thing 
grander  than  her  Queen  Rodelinda,"  he  declares  emphatically. 

She  was  determined  at  any  sacrifice  to  preserve  her  dignity 


\ 


GERTEUDE   ELIZABETH   MAKA.  121 

as  a  Queen  of  Song,  and  having  offered  to  sing  for  the  enter- 
tainment of  the  elector,  when  told  that  his  highness  generally 
■was  pleased  to  have  the  musical  performance  during  dinner, 
she  replied,  haughtily,  that  it  would  bo  impossible  for  her  to 
sing  while  others  were  eating ;  so  she  lost  a  hundred  ducats, 
and  the  elector  an  aria. 

The  good  people  of  Rheinsberg  compassionated  the  cruel 
situation  in  which  she  was  placed  by  the  misconduct  of  her 
husband,  who  had,  by  his  extravagance,  dragged  her  into  debt, 
and  they  abused  the  prince's  favorite  in  no  measured  terms. 
He  had  not  the  slightest  regard  for  any  body,  and  treated  even 
his  patron  in  a  manner  so  insulting  that  it  is  surprising  he  was 
permitted  to  retain  his  position.  "  The  prince  being  then  at 
Berlin  with  his  suite,"  Zelter  tells  us,  "  and  eclipsing  with  his 
entertainments  the  royal  redoutes,  invited  the  court  to  hear 
the  incomparable  Mara  perform.  All  came  but  the  king  and 
one  other,  who  was  also  missed,  namely,  Mara  himself.  At 
last  they  dragged  him  in.  He  was  drunk,  and  refused  before 
the  whole  court,  in  spite  of  his  patron,  to  jilay,  so  that  the 
prince  could  not  but  feel  himself  publicly  compromised.  The 
king  regarded  the  insult  as  a  species  of  high  treason  against 
his  consort,  who  was  present,  and  this  was  considered  to  be 
the  cause  of  his  severity  on  the  occasion  of  Mara's  first  deser- 
tion." He  was  connected  with  a  gang  of  smugglers,  who  held 
their  meetings  in  the  fine  residence  of  Rheinsberg,  near  the 
frontier  of  Mecklenburg.  The  king,  who  was  continually  ex- 
asperated by  the  audacious  impudence  of  the  reckless  violon- 
cellist, tried  in  vain  to  break  him  in,  and  once  his  irate  majesty 
condemned  Jean  Mara  to  sleep  in  the  guard-house,  on  hard 
boards,  during  the  Carnival,  the  common  soldiers  being  li- 
censed to  play  the  roughest  tricks  with  him.  Reichardt,  as  a 
patronizing  Capell-meister,  Avrote  a  long  account  of  the  hard- 
ships to  which  the  unfortunate  wretch  was  subjected,  and  dis- 
patched it  to  the  king.  "  Humph  !"  said  liis  majesty,  reading 
the  letter,  and  taking  a  handful  of  snuff,  "I  thought  I  should 
have  thrown  the  trouble  of  the  Opera  off  my  shoulders,  and 
now  I  have  the  old  plague  again,  with  the  addition  of  one  fool 
more  into  the  bargain." 

In  1801  Jean  Mara  was  at  Sondershausen,  where,  strange  to 
say,  he  conducted  himself  very  sedately,  never  betraying  the 
least  sign  of  that  inclination  to  intemperance  which  was  the 

F 


122  QUEE:srs  of  song. 

bane  of  his  life.  He  was  then  in  the  greatest  distress,  although 
his  wife  supplied  him  from  time  to  time  with  considerable  sums 
of  money  and  various  presents ;  but  his  respectable  conduct 
did  not  last  very  long.  "About  this  time,"  says  Gerber,  "he 
went  to  Plollaud,  where  he  indulged  to  such  a  degree  his  fatal 
inclination  to  drunkenness,  that,  after  having  lost  every  feeling 
of  propriety,  he  was  seen  day  and  night  in  the  lowest  pot- 
houses, playing  the  fiddle  for  sailors  to  dance." 

Nobody  could  imagine  why  EHzabeth  Mara  would  not  con- 
sent to  give  up  her  debauched,  depraved  husband  altogether. 
She  regarded  him  with  admiration  and  affection  in  spite  of  his 
vices ;  and  once,  on  Zelter  expressing  to  her  his  surprise  at  the 
generosity  of  her  conduct  toward  the  unprincipled  ruffian  who 
held  her  in  legal  slavery,  she  replied,  with  a  mixture  of  naivete 
and  loving  tenderness,  "But  you  must  allow  that  he  is  the 
handsomest  man  ever  seen !" 

At  last  she  was  freed  by  death,  in  the  summer  of  1 808.  Jean 
Mara  closed  his  existence  in  the  company  of  his  disreputable 
smuggling  associates,  dying  at  Schiedam,  near  Rotterdam. 
Four  years  before  her  husband's  death  Madame  Mara  went  to 
St.  Petersburg,  where  she  enjoyed  the  patronage  of  the  royal 
family,  and  sang  at  the  Opera  and  at  public  concerts.  From 
St.  Petersburg  she  repaired,  in  1806,  to  Moscow,  where  she 
was  so  well  received  that  she  resolved  to  settle  there,  and  pur- 
chased property  two  years  jDrevious  to  the  death  of  her  hus- 
band. On  finding  herself  at  liberty,  she  married  a  flute-player 
named  Florio.  She  remained  at  Moscow  till  the  burning  of 
that  capital,  when  she  lost  much  of  her  possessions.  This  re- 
verse of  fortune  compelled  her  to  go  to  Revel,  where  she  sup- 
ported herself  by  giving  lessons  in  music.  j 

Early  in  the  winter  of  1820  she  came  through  Berlin  to  Lon- 
don, the  scene  of  her  greatest  triumphs.     No  one  was  at  all 
aware  of  her  return,  or,  indeed,  even  of  her  existence,  and  her 
reappearance  was  totally  unlooked-for,  but  she  was  foolish    j 
enough  to  determine  on  giving  a  public  concert  at  the  King's    / 
Theatre.     She  was  now  in  her  seventy-second  year;  her  pow-  / 
ers  had  failed  her,  and  her  youthful  attractions  vanished,  though  ; 
she  would  not  admit  this  herself.     That  she  had  some  doubts/ 
of  her  powers,  however,  was  evidenced  by  her  refusal  to  open/ 
her  mouth  at  the  rehearsal  of  her  concert.     It  was  to  be  anticj- 
ipated  altogether  that  the  concert  announced  by  the  Messrsl 


GEKTEUDE  ELIZABETH  MAP.A.  123 

Knyvett,  at  wliicli  was  to  appear  "  a  most  celebrated  singer, 
whom  they  were  not  yet  at  liberty  to  name,"  would  prove  a 
failure.  Curiosity,  however,  drew  a  scanty  audience ;  there 
were  some  persons  of  note  in  the  boxes,  and  a  good  many  con- 
noisseurs collected  in  the  pit.  Two  or  three  glees  were  sung 
by  Miss  Travis,  the  Knyvetts,  Sale,  etc.,  a  fine  aria  of  Storace's 
was  given  by  Braham,  and  a  concerto  played  by  F.  Cramer, 
who  led  the  band ;  the  concert  being  conducted  by  Mr.  Great- 
orex.  At  the  very  moment  of  the  most  impatient  expectation, 
when  the  cantatrice  ought  to  have  appeared  and  made  her 
courtesy,  Mr.  Bellamy  came  forward  to  apologize  for  Madame 
Mara,  Avho  was,  he  said,  laboring  under  a  severe  cold  and 
hoarseness ;  but,  rather  than  postpone  her  concert  (the  night 
had  already  been  changed),  she  had  determined  to  use  her 
best  endeavors,  for  which  he  solicited  the  indulgence  of  the 
audience. 

Madame  Mara  herself  then  came  forward,  animated  and  smil- 
ing. She  sang  an  air  of  Guglielmi's,  Handel's  "What  though 
I  trace,"  and  a  cavatina  by  Paer,  "  Quale  smania  in  alma  io 
sento  ?"  People  looked  at  each  other  when  she  began.  Her 
tones  were,  it  is  true,  less  feeble,  less  tremulous,  less  attenuated 
than  might  have  been  supposed ;  but  the  swelling,  thrilling 
voice  which  had  once  flooded  Westminster  Abbey  with  the 
glorious  music  of  Handel  could  not  be  traced  in  this  strange 
piping.  The  matchless  organ,  which,  it  had  been  declared, 
was  miraculously  preserved — the  resistless  energy  and  force 
which  had  erst  held  thousands  in  breathless  attention—"  the 
majesty  and  fervor  that  kept  almost  equal  pace  with  the  sub- 
lime sentences  of  Holy  Writ"— all  the  exquisite  qualifications 
of  the  Mara  were  passed  aw^ay  forever.  Even  her  graces  and 
ornaments,  once  so  chaste,  so  scientific,  Avcre  now  absurd  and 
tasteless ;  and  in  the  middle  of  "What  though  I  trace,"  she  in- 
troduced a  roulade  of  three  ascending  and  five  descending 
notes  upon  the  monosyllabic  Z,  which  was  characterized  as  be- 
ing at  once  vulgar  and  impertinent.  After  this,  the  attention 
of  the  audience  was  "scarcely  respectful."  "It  was  truly 
grievous,"  says  Kelly,  "to  see  such  transcendent  talents  as 
she  once  possessed  so  sunk — so  fallen.  I  used  every  effort  in 
my  power  to  prevent  her  committing  herself,  but  in  vain." 

The  result  of  this  unlucky  experiment  was  that  Messrs.  Kny- 
vett relinquished  her  services,  and  in  1821  poor  Madame  Mara 


124  QUEENS   OF   SONG. 

turned  her  steps  to  lier  native  land ;  and  npon  her  arrival  at 
Cassel,  the  first  thing  she  asked  for  Avas  "  poor  Der  Trusel- 
gasse."  The  landlord  of  the  inn  was  surprised  to  hear  a  lady 
who  had  dashed  up  in  a  handsome  traveling  equipage  inquire 
for  a  mean  street,  but  the  lady's  waiting-maid  pronounced  the 
magic  name  of  Mara,  and  the  mystery  was  explained.  Ma- 
dame Mara  immediately  sought  the  place  of  her  birth,  and  in- 
dulged in  the  feelings  the  scene  evoked.  "Yes,"  she  exclaimed, 
on  returning,  "  I  have  seen  our  old  habitation.  I  feel  I  am  still 
a  true  Casselanarin." 

From  Cassel — where  she  was  treated  with  much  respect  by 
the  highest  inhabitants  of  the  town,  and  also  with  flattering  at- 
tention by  the  elector — she  again  went  to  Esthouia,  where  she 
prudently  subsided  into  a  pleasant  gossiping  old  music-mis- 
tress. Her  manner  was  as  lively  and  her  conversation  as  agree- 
able as  of  yore,  and  doubtless  she  ascribed  the  bad  taste  of  the 
English  public  to  the  innovations  modern  flippancy  had  made 
on  the  good  old  style.  The  most  difficult  thing  in  the  world, 
perhaps,  is  to  believe  that  one  has  outgrown  one's  youth ;  and 
those  who  hold  the  theory  that  impossibility  is  a  myth  of  the 
imagination,  have  certainly  never  entered  on  the  amiable  task 
of  trying  to  convince  a  faded  queen  of  beauty  or  of  song  that 
it  is  her  own  fault  or  misfortune  that  she  no  longer  attracts. 
Madame  Mara  celebrated  her  eighty-third  birthday  on  the  23d 
of  February,  1831,  on  which  auspicious  occasion  the  great  poet 
Goethe  oftered  her  a  poetical  tribute.  The  latter  part  of  her 
life  was  passed  at  Revel,  Avhere  she  died  in  January,  1833. 


ANNA  MAEIA   CEOUCH.  125 


CHAPTER  XI. 

ANNA  MARIA   CEOUCH. 

Peeegeine  Phillips  was  descended  from  tlie  younger  branch 
of  a  resjDcctable  and  ancient  Welsh  family,  the  elder  branch  of 
which  was  graced  by  a  long  line  of  baronets,  the  last  of  whom 
was  created  a  peer  of  Ireland  in  1770.  His  early  life  was  un- 
happy, and  he  several  times  quitted  his  home  to  travel  to  vari- 
ous parts  of  the  world,  residing  for  some  time  in  North  Amer. 
ica.  On  returning  finally  to  England,  he  married  a  Miss  Gas- 
coyne,  the  daughter  of  a  wealthy  farmer  in  "Worcestershire ; 
he  was  then  an  attorney  at  law,  held  in  much  esteem.  Six 
children  were  born  to  the  couple:  Mary  Anne,  Peregrine, 
Henrietta,  Anna  Maria,  Sophia,  and  Edward  Erasmus,  who 
died  in  his  infancy. 

Anna  Maria,  through  whose  talents  the  family  was  after- 
ward to  become  eminent,  was  born  on  the  20th  of  April,  1763, 
in  Gray's  Inn  Lane.  From  her  earliest  childhood,  hei-  beauti- 
ful voice  attracted  universal  attention  and  admiration.  Her 
father  being  the  professional  adviser  of  Sir  Watkin  Lewes,  the 
child  was  introduced  to  that  gentleman's  Avife,  who  patronized 
her,  and  frequently  invited  her  to  her  house.  Of  a  singularly 
affectionate  and  unselfish  nature,  little  Nancy  often  felt  uncom- 
fortable at  the  idea  of  being  thus  petted  and  praised,  while  her 
sisters  were  left  at  home  unnoticed,  though  they  never  evinced 
the  slightest  jealousy.  Sometimes,  with  tears  trembling  in 
her  soft  eyes,  she  would  say  pathetically,  "  I  should  be  very 
happy  if  my  sisters  were  going  with  me ;  but  nobody  can  tell 
how  I  grieve  at  leaving  them  at  home.  Mary  Anne,  who  is 
old  enough  to  be  my  mamma's  companion,  ma}^  not,  perhaps, 
mind  it  so  much ;  but  poor  Henrietta,  who  is  so  near  my  own 
age,  and  who  is  my  playfellow  also,  she,  I  am  sure,  must  feel 
very  sorry.  Well,  when  I  have  any  power  of  my  own,  my 
sisters  shall  know  how  I  love  them,  for  they  shall  sLare  in  all 
my  pleasui'es."  The  cakes,  sweetmeats,  or  any  other  treasures 
or  dainties  which  she  received,  were  all  carefully  preserved  for 


126 


QUEENS   OF   SONG. 


her  two  beloved  elder  sisters  whom  she  was  obliged  to  leave 
at  home. 

She  was  instructed  in  music,  at  a  very  tender  age,  by  Mr. 
Wafer,  organist  of  Berwick  Street  Chapel,  by  whose  tuition 
she  profited  so  well  that  at  ten  she  could  sing  "The  Soldier 
tired,"  and  accompany  herself  on  the  piano-forte  with  precision 
and  effect.  Many  of  Nancy's  early  days  were  spent  with  a 
good  little  old  man  and  his  widowed  sister,  who  partly  trained 
her.  The  little  girl  was  very  assidnous,  though  exceedingly 
diffident.  Being  requested  on  one  occasion  to  sing  for  an  old 
friend,  an  officer  who  had  just  returned  from  abroad,  she  in- 
stantly commenced,  "  See  the  conquering  hero  comes !"  and 
gave  the  words  uncommon  expression ;  but  before  she  finished 
the  song  her  fingers  trembled,  her  voice  faltered,  and  she  fell 
back  fainting,  overpowered  by  her  feelings,  although  she  was 
under  eleven  years  of  age  at  the  time. 

Anna  w^as  still  a  child  when  Mrs.  Phillips  died,  leaving  her 
husband  in  charge  of  three  very  young  daughters.  A  lucra- 
tive place  in  the  Wine  License  Office,  added  to  the  emoluments 
of  his  profession,  rendered  Mr.  Phillips  able  to  support  himself 
and  family  in  a  comfortable  manner.  Mary  Anne  was  just 
married  to  a  Mr.  Scadgell,  a  builder,  and  Peregrine  was  ap- 
prenticed to  a  seal  engraver.  Anna  Maria  was  placed  with 
her  aunt,  Mrs.  Le  Clerc,  a  prudent  and  sensible  woman,  living 
in  Prince's  Street,  Cavendish  Square,  who  had  entered  into 
partnership  with  a  trimming-maker,  and  Nancy,  of  course,  as- 
sisted her  aunt  in  the  business,  which  was  quiet  and  sedentary. 
While  with  her  aunt,  two  ladies  became  acquainted  with  her, 
and,  taking  a  fancy  to  her,  invited  her  on  a  visit ;  she  was  six- 
teen, lively,  lovely,  and  lovable,  and  a  naval  captain  in  his 
majesty's  service  made  her  an  ofier  of  his  hand  and  heart,  but, 
as  he  was  considerably  older  than  herself,  the  young  girl  de- 
clined it.  / 

Her  father  did  not  lose  sight  of  the  advantages  which  might 
be  derived  from  the  proper  cultivation  of  her  voice,  and,  being 
fond  of  the  stage,  he  decided  to  train  h-is  daughter  as  a  vocal- 
ist, and  articled  her,  in  1779,  to  Mr.  Linley,  the  joint  patentee 
of  Drury  Lane  Tlieatre,  for  three  years.  She  regarded  this 
"dark,  stern,  gigantic"  teacher  with  very  different  feelings 
from  the  love  she  had  cherished  toward  Mr.  Wafer,  who,  she 
said,  was  "  of  fairy  race,  light  complexion,  and  of  meek  appear- 


ANNA  MAKIA  CROUCH.  127 

ance."  Indeed,  she  confesses,  "  I  trembled  sometimes  when  I 
looked  at  him,  for  I  actually  believed  that  my  poor  dear  little 
old  master  might  go  into  the  sleeve  of  Mr.  Linley's  great-coat." 

At  the  expiration  of  her  term  of  three  years  the  young  stu- 
dent was  considered  qualified  to  appear  in  the  arduous  part  of 
Mandane  in  Artaxerxes,  although  she  had  not  yet  completed 
her  seventeenth  year.  She  made  her  debut  in  the  winter  of 
1780  at  Drury  Lane,  and  was  received  by  a  fashionable  and 
crowded  audience  with  flattering  applause.  Her  powers  were 
greatly  checked  by  her  excessive  timidity,  but  the  public  were 
indulgent,  and  rather  liked  her  modest  diflidence ;  her  youth, 
her  beauty,  and  her  voice  pleaded  effectually  for  the  candidate. 
"I  remember  distinctly  the  surprise  which  her  beauty  excited," 
says  Boaden,  in  his  Ilemoirs  of  Mrs.  Siddons.  "  She  was  al- 
ways timid  upon  the  stage,  and  really  needed  all  the  indulgence 
which  she  experienced ;  but  she  was  infinitely  promising  of 
musical  excellence ;  and  as  to  countenance  and  figure,  she  real- 
ized the  visions  of  even  poetical  imagination.  He  wlio  came 
from  the  study  of  Spenser's  Una  beheld  the  seeming  origin  of 
such  a  portrait  in  Miss  Phillips."  For  the  sake  of  effect,  Miss 
Prudom,  who  made  her  debut  the  same  evening,  took  the  part 
of  Arbaccs,  in  which  she  acquitted  herself  very  well,  consider- 
ing that  she  spoke  English  very  badly.  The  beautiful  JMrs. 
Baddeley  was  the  royal  Artaxerxes,  and  Miss  Wright,  after- 
ward Mrs.  Blanchard,  was  the  Semira.  "The  evening,"  ob- 
serves Boaden,  enthusiastically,  "  seemed  the  triumph  of  beau- 
ty even  more  than  that  of  harmony."  Mr.  Vernon  was  Arta- 
banes,  and  Mr.  Dubellamy,  Rimenes. 

Being  now  placed  in  a  more  independent  position,  the  young 
singer  took  the  upper  part  of  a  genteel  private  house  in  Drury 
Lane,  which  was  furnished  by  her  father,  who  came  to  reside 
with  her.  She  also  requested  her  aunt,  Mrs.  Le  Clerc,  to  live 
with  her,  as  that  lady's  business  was  going  greatly  out  of  fixsh- 
ion. 

Her  next  character  was  Clarissa,  which  she  performed  for 
her  own  benefit,  and  at  the  termination  of  the  Drury  Lane 
season  she  was  engaged  as  first  singer  at  the  Theatre  Royal, 
Liverpool,  where  she  appeared  as  Polly.  From  Liverpool  she 
returned  to  Drury  Lane,  when  she  appeared  as  the  Goddess 
of  Beauty,  in  the  masque  o^  King  Arthur,  which  was  got  up 
in  a  superb  style.    Miss  Romanzini,  afterward  Mrs.  Bland,  was 


128 


QUEENS    OF   SONG. 


the  Cupid  to  her  Venus  ;  Mr.  Smith  played  King  Arthur,  and 
Miss  Farren  made  a  most  interesting  Emmeline.  She  was 
again  engaged  in  1782  at  Livei-pool.  Her  reputation  was  now 
firmly  established,  and  Mr.  Daly,  manager  of  the  Theatre  Royal 
in  Smock  Alley,  Dublin,  having  heard  of  the  fame  of  the  lovely 
Miss  Phillips,  oflered  her  an  engagement  in  the  summer  of 
1783.  She  acceiDted  it,  and  went  with  her  father  to  Ireland  at 
the  close  of  the  London  season.  Dr.  Johnson,  desirous  of  be- 
friending her,  gave  the  beautiful  young  prima  donna  a  some- 
what original  letter  of  introduction,  couched  in  terms  scarcely 
flattering  to  his  charming  friend  : 

^  "London,  May  31, 1783. 

"  Sm, — The  bringer  of  this  letter  is  the  father  of  Miss  Phil- 
lijjs,  a  singer,  who  comes  to  try  her  voice  on  the  stage  at  Dublin. 

"  Mr.  Phillips  is  one  of  my  oldest  friends,  and  as  I  am  of 
opinion  that  neither  he  nor  his  daughter  will  do  any  thing  to 
disgrace  their  benefactors,  I  take  the  liberty  of  entreating  you 
to  countenance  and  protect  them,  so  far  as  may  be  suitable  to 
your  station  and  character,  and  shall  consider  myself  obliged 
by  any  favorable  notice  which  they  shall  have  the  honor  of  re- 
ceiving from  you.     I  am,  sir,  your  humble  servant, 

"  Sam.  Johnson. 

"  To  the  Kiglit  Hon.  William  Wyndham.'» 


In  Ireland  the  young  vocalist  met  with  John  Kemble,  who 
had  appeared  the  preceding  February,  and  who  was  then  en- 
gaged with  his  sister,  the  glorious  Siddons,  in  the  Emerald 
Isle.  They  were  mutually  pleased  to  become  acquainted,  and 
contracted  a  fiiendship  which  gave  rise  to  a  report  that  they 
were  engaged  to  be  married — a  rumor  which  gained  color  from 
a  circumstance  which  happened,  when  they  both  went  shortly 
after  to  perform  at  Limerick  with  Mrs.  Siddons.  Miss  Phil- 
lips performed  on  alternate  nights  Avith  the  tragedian  and  his 
sister ;  and  as  the  lovely  English  songstress  was  beyond  meas- 
ure popular,  and  the  theme  of  universal  conversation  in  the 
city,  she  was,  of  course,  the  cynosure  of  the  young  men.  One 
evening,  on  the  conclusion  of  the  piece,  Xove  in  a  Village,  some 
officers  of  a  militia  regiment  quartered  in  Limerick,  being  flush- 
ed with  wine,  declared  their  intention  of  escorting  the  beauti- 
ful Rosetta  home,  and  rushing  behind  the  scenes,  terrified  the 


ANXA   MARIA   CROUCH.  129 

young  prima  donna  by  their  loud  tones  and  tipsy  gallantries. 
She  ran  into  her  dressing-room  and  locked  the  door,  "  which 
these  heroes  swore  they  would  break  ojjen  without  ceremony." 
Her  father,  who  was  laid  up  with  gout,  having  requested  Mr. 
Kemble  to  see  his  daughter  home,  the  tragedian,  hearing  the 
uproar  and  ascertaining  its  cause,  hurried  to  the  scene  of  ac- 
tion, and  politely  requested  the  officers  to  withdraw.  They 
declined  to  com2:»ly,  and  vehemently  reiterated  their  intention 
of  not  quitting  the  theatre  without  Miss  Phillips.  Kemble 
drew  his  sword,  and  said  that,  having  been  deputed  by  the 
lady's  father  to  see  her  safely  home,  he  should  execute  his  com- 
mission at  the  hazard  of  his  life.  He  then  requested  Miss  Phil- 
lips to  open  the  door  of  her  dressing-room,  promising  that  she 
should  not  be  molested ;  and  the  agitated  girl  issued  forth,  but 
at  the  sight  of  the  brawlers  was  about  to  retreat  precipitately. 
"Be  under  no  apprehension,"  said  Kemble,  audibly;  "I  am 
resolved  to  protect  you.  If  any  gentleman  is  dissatisfied  with 
my  conduct,  I  will  meet  him,  if  he  pleases,  to-morrow  morning ; 
if  he  can  prove  it  to  be  wrong,  I  shall  be  ready  to  apologize 
for  it."  Then,  offering  his  arm  to  his  trembling  charge,  he  led 
her  in  safety  to  her  chair. 

The  following  morning.  Lord  Muskerry,  the  colonel  of  the 
regiment,  called  upon  the  tragedian,  and  told  him  that  every 
apology  he  might  demand  should  be  made  by  the  offenders. 
Kemble  referred  him  to  Miss  Phillips,  Avho  was,  he  said,  the 
really  insulted  person.  Miss  Phillips,  however,  told  the  com- 
manding officer,  with  her  usual  naivete,  that "  she  would  have 
no  apology ;  all  that  she  required  was  that  the  gentlemen  in 
future  would  go  from  the  theatre  with  the  rest  of  the  audience, 
and  leave  her  to  return  home  quietly  with  her  father,  or  with 
the  person  whom  he  might  appoint  to  conduct  her."  This  in- 
cident was  ever  gratefully  remembered  by  Miss  Phillips,  who 
never  mentioned  it  without  expressions  of  admiration  of  the 
spirit  and  perfect  command  of  temper  displayed  by  Kemble. 

The  next  year  she  again  went  to  Dublin,  and  was  received 
with  renewed  favor.  While  there  she  had  many  admirers,  one 
of  whom,  to  prove  the  fervor  of  his  attachment,  threatened  to 
shoot  her  if  she  declined  his  suit,  saying  he  would  go  into  the 
theatre  for  the  purpose.  On  the  next  night  she  peeped  through 
the  interstices  of  the  curtain  to  see  if  he  was  prepared  to  cari-y 
his  threat  into  execution,  and  seeing  him  seated  in  the  second 
9  F  2 


130 


QUEENS   OF   SONG. 


row  of  tlie  pit,  she  did  not  for  a  moment  douLt  that  Le  intend- 
ed to  keep  his  resohuion,  and  in  terror  flew  to  procure  some 
one  to  remove  him  from  the  house.  Pie  was  t:iken  into  cus- 
tody, but  no  weapons  being  found  upon  him,  he  was  liberated ; 
his  friends  subsequently  persuaded  him  to  leave  the  country. 

Among  those  admirers  who  adopted  more  persuasive  meas- 
ures to  win  her  favor  Avas  a  young  Irish  nobleman,  who  in- 
duced her  to  elope  with  him.  They  fled ;  but  an  insuperable 
obstacle  to  their  legal  union  unexpectedly  presented  itself. 
The  youthful  lord  Avas  a  minor,  and  so  well  known  that  he 
could  not  prevail  on  any  priest  in  Ireland  to  perform  the  mar- 
riage ceremony.  In  despair  at  this  unlooked-for  impediment, 
they  set  out  for  Scotland  with  all  possible  celerity ;  but  their 
mutual  friends  had  set  out  in  pursuit,  and  came  on  them  just 
as  they  were  waiting  for  the  wind  to  change,  that  they  might 
sail.  The  lovers  were  immediately  severed,  never  to  meet 
again,  and  Miss  Phillips  was  obliged  unAvillingly  to  return  to 
her  theatrical  duties.  Her  first  appearance  at  Drury  Lane 
after  this  most  untoward  adventure  was  as  Emily  in  the  Double 
Disguise,  in  which  Mrs.  Wrighton  had,  as  an  Irish  chamber- 
maid, to  sing  to  her  a  song,  one  verse  of  which  ran  thus : 

"  Each  pretty  young  miss,  with  a  long  heavy  purse, 
Is  courted,  and  flattered,  and  easily  had ; 
She  longs  to  be  taken  for  better,  for  worse» 
And  quickly  dopes  with  an  Irish  lad." 

These  lines  she  sang  with  such  a  malicious  archness,  that  the 
audience,  quickly  applying  them,  were  in  convulsions  of  laugh- 
ter, and  the  song  was  vociferously  encored.  The  situation  in 
which  Miss  Phillips  found  herself  became  almost  insupporta- 
ble :  confused,  blushing,  and  scarcely  able  to  stand,  she  Avas 
forced  to  retain  her  place  while  the  lines  were  repeated. 

Some  months  afterward,  the  fascinating  Anna  Maria  noticed 
one  evening  in  the  stage-box  a  very  handsome  man,  Avho  con- 
stantly kept  his  eyes  fixed  on  her  Avith  such  open  admiration 
that  his  feelings  could  not  be  mistaken.  This  was  Mr.  Crouch, 
a  lieutenant  in  his  majesty's  navy,  who  had  become  deeply 
smitten  Avith  the  captivating  singer.  He  obtained  an  intro- 
duction to  her,  declared  his  passion,  and  pressed  his  suit  with 
such  ardor  that  before  the  February  of  1785  they  were  mar- 
ried. For  family  reasons,  the  marriage  was  kept  secret  some 
time  from  all  but  the  bride's  relations.     The  match  was  cer- 


ANNA   MAKIA   CROUCH.  131 

tainly  not  altogether  a  prudent  or  a  brilliant  one,  for  the  gen- 
tleman had, besides  his  pay,  nothing  but  "  expectations"  to  look 
forward  to,  while  the  bride  had  several  drains  on  her  liberal 
salary :  she  was  obliged  to  provide  for  her  father,  Avho  was 
subject  to  frequent  and  expensive  illnesses;  for  her  aunt,  whoi 
had  been  disabled  by  a  terrible  fall  down  stairs ;  for  her  young-[ 
est  sister  Sophia,  whom  she  had  just  apprenticed  to  a  fashion- 
able milliner  in  Jermyn  Street,  and  partially  for  her  brother,! 
who  Avas  an  artist.     Mrs.  Crouch  continued  to  perform  in  herj 
maiden  name  for  the  remainder  of  the  season,  when  an  accident ' 
happened  which  almost  proved  fatal.    At  the  latter  end  of  the 
season  she  had  one  morning  attended  rehearsal,  and  turning 
round  hastily  when  at  the  top  of  a  flight  of  steps,  she  missed 
her  footing  and  fell  to  the  ground.    She  suffered  agony  all  day, 
but  generously  resolved,  if  possible,  to  sing  at  night,  fearing  to 
cause  loss  and  disappointment  to  the  friend  for  whose  benefit 
she  was  to  appear.     After  the  performance  she  got  home  to 
her  lodgings  in  Charles  Street,  St.  James's  Square,  suffering 
acutely,  and  at  an  early  hour  the  next  morning  she  was  pre- 
maturely delivered  of  a  little  girl,  who  lived  only  two  days. 
For  weeks  her  life  was  in  danger,  and  her  death  was  often  an- 
nounced :  grief  for  the  loss  of  her  infant  jsreyed  greatly  upon 
her  mind. 

On  her  recovery  Mr.  Crouch  took  apartments  in  Rathbone 
Place,  and  her  engagement  at  Drury  Lane  was  renewed  in  her 
married  name.  She  was  greeted  with  the  warmest  sympathy 
on  her  reappearance,  and  again  became  the  favorite  of  the  pub- 
lic, though  on  the  advent  of  Mrs.  Billiugtou  in  1786,  she  was 
compelled  to  yield  the  position  of  first  singer  to  that  wonder- 
ful vocalist.  Soon  after  this  she  had  the  satisfaction  of  seeing 
her  young  sister  Sophia,  then  fifteen,  married  to  Mr.  Ilorrebow, 
a  wealthy  Dane,  captain  of  a  Danish  East  Indiamau.  That 
summer  Mrs.  Crouch  was  engaged  at  Liverpool,  and  at  the 
close  of  the  winter  theatres  set  out,  accompanied  by  her  hus- 
band. 

On  her  return  to  town  she  was  introduced  to  Michael  Kel- 
ly, who  had  just  appeared  at  Drury  Lane,  and  from  his  long 
absence  had  nearly  forgotten  his  native  language ;  Mrs.  Crouch, 
taking  a  fancy  to  him,  good-naturedly  bestowed  much  pains  in 
recalling  it  to  his  memory,  a  kindness  which  he  repaid  by  in- 
structing hqr  in  music.     Mrs.  Crouch  proposed  to  her  husband 


132 


QUEENS    OF   SONG. 


that  Kelly,  a  stranger  in  London,  should  reside  with  them,  a 
proposal  Avhich  the  young  musician  on  his  part  gladly  accept- 
ed, and  they  accordingly  took  a  house  in  Titchfield  Street. 
Lionel  was  the  first  character  in  which  Kelly  appeared,  Mrs. 
Crouch  being  the  Clarissa.  Kelly  had  imparted  new  graces  to 
her  singing,  and  she  had  taught  him  to  give  proper  emphasis 
to  the  dialogue,  so  that  when  they  appeared  together  they 
played  and  sang  with  such  spirit  and  judgment  that  the  audi- 
ence applauded  them  "  to  the  echo." 

Scarcely  three  years  from  the  date  of  her  first  accident  she 
met  with  another  which  likewise  threatened  to  be  fatal.  At 
the  end  of  January,  1*788,  she  was  going  to  rehearsal  one  morn- 
ing in  a  hackney-coach,  when  the  vehicle  suddenly  overturned, 
and  her  face  was  dreadfully  cut  by  the  broken  glass ;  for,  hav- 
ing her  sister  Sophia's  little  boy  in  her  arms,  she  flung  herself 
between  him  and  the  window.  She  was  carried  to  a  house 
near,  and  a  surgeon  sent  for,  who  assured  her  that  there  was 
no  glass  in  the  wounds,  and  was  going  to  bind  them  up.  The 
torture  she  felt  convinced  her  that  he  was  deceived,  and  she 
sent  for  Mr.  Cruikshanks,  her  own  surgeon,  who  extracted 
many  pieces  of  glass.  It  was  long  before  she  was  sufficiently 
recovered  to  present  herself  on  the  stage :  slight  scars  always 
remained,  materially  injuring  the  delicacy  of  her  face. 

In  1788-9  Mr.  Kemble  produced  Macbeth^  with  the  music  of 
Matthew  Lock.  Mrs.  Crouch  was  one  of  the  witches,  and  cre- 
ated great  dissatisfaction  by  appearing  in  "  a  fancy  hat,  pow- 
dered hair,  rouge,  point  lace,  and  fine  linen."  The  summer 
approaching,  Mrs.  Crouch  went  to  Ireland  with  her  husband 
and  Kelly.  She  was  so  grateful  for  his  tuition  that  she  would 
now  never  consent  to  accept  engagements  unless  he  also  was 
engaged.  "  I  will  never  sing  in  any  theatre  without  him,"  she 
frequently  declared. 

In  the  course  of  a  sojourn  at  Margate  in  1V90,  Mrs.  Crouch 
had  an  opportunity  of  indulging  the  native  benevolence  of  her 
heart.  A  poor  girl,  an  inhabitant  of  the  place,  being  deprived 
of  the  use  of  her  limbs,  was  reduced  to  the  utmost  distress. 
Mr.  Phillips,  who  was  living  at  St.  Peter's,  drew  up  a  petition 
to  the  inhabitants  and  visitors,  by  which  he  gained  a  consid- 
erable sura,  and  some  persons  of  rank  undertook  to  obtain  sub- 
scriptions. They  came  to  Mrs.  Crouch  and  Kelly,  who  thought 
their  best  donation  would  be  to  play  a  night  at  tlie  theatre  for 


ANNA   MARIA   CKOUCH.  133 

the  girl's  benefit.  The  piece  finnounced  was  the  Beggar''s  Op- 
era, Mrs.  Crouch  as  Polly,  and  Kelly  as  Macheath.  Every 
place  in  the  house  was  taken ;  the  whole  pit,  one  row  except- 
ed, was  railed  into  boxes  ;  and  the  receipts  of  that  night,  with 
many  liberal  presents  sent  to  the  poor  girl,  were  sufficient  to 
procure  her  a  comfortable  subsistence  for  life. 

From  Margate  Mrs.  Crouch  went  with  a  party  to  Paris, 
where  she  staid  three  weeks,  attending  the  theatre  every 
night.  Pier  first  visit  to  the  Grand  Opera  might  have  had  un- 
pleasant results.  She  sat  in  a  conspicuous  part  of  the  house, 
and  noticed  that  the  eyes  of  every  one  were  directed  toward 
her  box ;  the  audience  whispering  and  frowning,  and  looking 
from  her  to  each  other  with  every  token  of  displeasure.  She 
was  inexpressibly  annoyed  and  perjjlexed,  until  a  gentleman 
who  sat  near  explained  the  cause :  she  wore  a  white  rose  in 
her  hair,  and  white  was  the  Royalist  color!  "She  was  oa 
thorns  until  she  quitted  the  house,"  says  Kelly,  relating  the  in- 
cident, "  but  met  with  no  insult." 

On  the  1st  of  January,  1791,  the  opera  of  the  Siege  of  Bel- 
grade was  brought  out  with  great  success  at  Drury  Lane,  Mrs. 
Crouch  performing  Catharine,  and  Kelly  the  Seraskier. 

A  few  months  after  this,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Crouch,  who  had  not 
lived  happily  together,  agreed  to  sej)arate,  and  she  consented 
to  allow  her  husband  a  portion  of  her  professional  emoluments, 
which  he  was  mean  enough  to  take.  Kelly  still  continued  to 
board  with  Mrs.  Crouch,  and  tliey  gave  delighful  musical  par- 
ties at  their  house  in  Pall  Mall,  where  the  talents  of  Mrs.  Bil- 
lington,  Madame  Mara,  Mrs.  Bland,  Signora  Storace,  Jack  John- 
son, and  other  vocalists,  enhanced  the  attractions  of  these  re- 
unions, which  were  patronized  by  the  Prince  of  Wales.  At 
these  meetings  Mrs.  Crouch  would  preside,  arrayed  in  the  cos- 
tume which  she  had  worn  at  the  theatre ;  a  fancy  which  was 
carried  off  so  coquettishly  by  her  wit,  grace,  and  beauty,  that 
it  was  irresistibly  charming.  The  first  personages  of  the  day 
Avere  to  be  met  here ;  and  sometimes  Sheridan  would  arrive 
from  a  late  debate,  and  sparkle  in  the  saloon  with  his  care- 
fully-prepared impromptus.  "Points  of  management  were 
often  settled  in  five  minutes  at  such  a  rencounter  with  Sheri- 
dan that  he  could  not  be  brought  to  decide  by  all  the  morning 
solicitations  of  the  parties  who  besieged  his  dwelling-house." 
Kemble,  and  his  brother  Stephen  too,  would  frequently  be 


134  QUEENS   OF  S0:N"G. 

found  in  company  with  the  numerous  celebrities  who  cluster- 
ed round  the  lovely  vocalist. 

On  their  way  to  Ireland  in  1V93,  Mrs.  Crouch  and  Kelly  en- 
countered a  terrific  storm,  and  an  alarm  was  spread  that  they 
had  been  cast  ashore  lifeless ;  but  Mr.  Phillips  received  a  letter 
from  his  daughter  dated  the  day  after  that  on  which  the  jDa- 
pers  alleged  she  had  been  found  dead.  Anxious  friends  throng- 
ed daily  to  Sufiblk  Street  to  inquire  into  the  truth  of  the  report, 
and  when  they  reappeared  in  London  the  pair  were  welcomed 
with  uproarious  delight  and  congratulation. 

Upon  the  19th  of  June,  the  next  year,  the  splendid  musical 
spectacle  o^ LodoisJca  was  produced.  It  was  translated  from 
tho  French  by  John  Kemble,  and  the  music  selected  by  Storace 
from  the  works  of  Cherubini  and  Kreutzer,  and  enriched  with 
some  charming  melodies  of  his  own  composition.  The  mise 
en  sc^ne  was  "  picturesquely  grand  and  beautiful,"  the  dresses 
gorgeous,  and  every  detail  perfect.  Kemble,  who  was  part 
proprietor  of  the  theatre  at  the  time,  took  the  utmost  care  in 
getting  up  the  piece,  and  was  rewarded  by  the  rapturous  re- 
ception it  met  with.  Mrs.  Crouch  was  the  Princess  Lodoiska, 
Kelly  personated  Floreski,  and  the  two  Bannisters,  Barrymore, 
Charles  Kemble,  Dignura,  Sedgwick,  Aikin,  and  Palmer,  also 
performed  in  the  spectacle.  The  last  scene  was  heightened 
by  an  imexpected  and  fine  efiect  from  an  accident  which  hap- 
pened to  Mrs.  Crouch.  When  she  was  in  the  blazing  castle, 
the  wind  blew  the  flames  close  to  her;  but  she  had  suflUcient 
fortitude  and  presence  of  mind  not  to  move  from  her  j^ainful 
situation,  although  she  remained  at  the  hazard  of  her  life. 
Kelly,  seeing  her  danger,  ran  up  the  bridge,  which  was  at  a 
great  height  from  the  ground,  toward  the  tower  to  rescue  her, 
wlien,  just  as  he  was  quitting  the  platform,  a  carpenter  pre- 
maturely pulled  away  one  of  its  supports.  "Down  I  fell," 
says  Kelly, "  and  at  the  same  moment  the  fiery  tower,  in  which 
was  Mrs.  Crouch,  sank  down  in  a  blaze,  with  a  violent  crash. 
She  uttered  a  scream  of  terror.  Providentially  I  was  not  hurt 
by  the  fall ;  and,  catching  her  in  my  arms,  scarcely  knowing 
what  I  was  doing,  I  carried  her  to  the  front  of  the  stage,  a  con- 
siderable distance  from  the  place  where  we  fell.  The  applause 
was  loud  and  continued ;  in  fact,  had  we  rehearsed  the  scene 
as  it  happened,  it  could  not  have  been  done  half  so  naturally 
or  produced  half  so  great  an  efiect.     I  always  carried  her  to 


' 


ANNA  MAEIA  CROUCH.  135 

the  front  of  the  stage  in  a  similar  manner,  and  it  never  failed 
to  produce  great  applause.  Such  are  at  times  the  eifects  of 
accident." 

At  the  close  of  this  season  a  second  mishap  of  an  even  more 
alarming  nature  befell  Mrs.  Crouch.  She  was  traveling,  in 
order  to  fulfill  some  country  engagement,  when  her  carriage 
overturned,  and  a  weighty  dressing-case,  containing  all  her 
stage  ornaments  and  other  theatrical  property,  fell  on  her 
throat  and  nearly  choked  her.  This  accident  severely  injured 
her  voice ;  for,  although  the  most  eminent  of  the  faculty  were 
consulted,  and  various  means  tried  to  restore  its  clearness  and 
strength,  it  never  regained  its  former  beauty.  Henceforth  she 
was  obliged  to  take  songs  lower,  and  found  her  voice  in  speak- 
ino-  seriously  weakened.  Nor  did  this  misfortune  come  alone: 
her  father  was  at  this  time  confined  to  his  bed  with  gout ;  her 
aunt  was  in  a  state  of  mental  derangement ;  and  her  eldest 
sister,  Mrs.  Scadgell,  was  in  a  deep  decline.  Yet  her  cheerful- 
ness enabled  her  to  bear  up  against  these  troubles,  and  to  pre- 
side with  apparent  ease  and  tranquillity  at  a  table  adorned  al- 
most nightly  by  the  first  and  most  brilliant  characters  of  the 
age.  Mrs.  Scadgell  died  in  179G,  leaving  a  son  and  a  daughter 
in  the  care  of  Mrs.  Crouch,  who  adopted  and  advanced  them. 

Some  short  time  after  this,  Mrs.  Crouch  performed,  as  one 
of  the  Priestesses  of  the  Sun,  in  Sheridan's  Pi?xirro^  a  play  so 
popular  that  on  the  first  night  the  pit  was  nearly  filled  by  those 
who  had  paid  box  prices,  and  scrambled  over  to  it  from  the 
suffocating  lower  boxes ;  many  windows  were  broken  to  give 
air  to  the  almost  stifled  throng  in  the  passages ;  and  one  of  the 
door-keepers  had  his  ribs  broken  in  endeavoring  to  restrain 
the  impatience  of  the  crowd.  Late  as  the  play  came  out,  it 
ran  thirty-one  nights.  The  last  new  piece  in  which  Mrs. 
Crouch  appeared  after  Pizarro  was  the  Pavilion,  which  was 
played  only  two  nights.  Mrs.  Crouch  was  at  this  time  en- 
gaged jointly  with  Kelly  in  the  tuition  of  his  pupils,  who  were 
instructed  in  deportment,  acting,  and  elocution.  Among  them 
was  a  young  girl  named  Griffiths,  the  daughter  of  the  stage- 
door  keeper  in  the  Edinburgh  Theatre.  She  was  so  struck 
with  the  performance  of  Mrs.  Crouch,  that,  shortly  after  that 
lady  had  quitted  the  city,  she,  without  giving  any  intimation 
of  her  project  to  her  father,  set  out  from  Edinburgh  and  walk- 
ed to  London,  where  she  sought  out  Mrs.  Crouch,  and  entreat- 


136.  QUEENS    OF   SONG. 

ed  her  to  teach  her  to  sing.  Finding  that  the  girl  had  a  sweet 
voice,  an  accurate  ear,  and  a  great  deal  of  intelligence,  the 
kind-hearted  prima  donna  took  her  under  her  tuition  and  pat- 
ronage, and  bestowed  the  utmost  care  on  her  instruction. 
The  girl  profited  by  the  trouble  expended  on  her,  and  made  a 
decided  "hit"  as  Polly  and  Clarissa,  performing  with  Kelly, 
who  took  a  strong  interest  in  her. 

In  1799  Mrs.  Crouch  and  Kelly  accepted  an  engagement 
at  the  Plymouth  Theatre  from  Mr.  Foote,  father  of  tlie  love- 
ly Miss  Foote,  of  Covent  Garden  Theatre.  The  house  was 
crowded  every  night  by  admiring  auditors.  One  night,  in  iVb 
Song  no  tSiq?2^er,  Mrs.  Crouch,  who  acted  Margaretta,  intro- 
duced a  pretty  ballad,  composed  by  Dr.  Arnold  for  Miss  Leak, 
entitled  "  Poor  little  Gipsy."  It  was  every  where  a  favorite, 
and  she  sang  it  ex(][uisitely.  A  jolly  tar  in  the  pit  listened 
with  rapt  attention,  and  when  she  came  to  the  line  "  Spare  a 
poor  little  gipsy  a  halfpenny,"  Jack  hallooed,  "  That  I  will,  my 
darling,"  and  suited  the  action  to  the  word  by  throwing  a 
shilling  on  the  stage. 

Mrs.  Crouch  withdrew  from  the  stage  in  1801 ;  but  she  oc- 
casionally exercised  her  skill  in  musical  composition,  and  in 
sketching  subjects  for  musical  dramas.  Her  house  adjoined 
the  theatre,  and  she  had  a  door  of  communication  to  her  box, 
but  she  scarcely  ever  attended  unless  a  new  piece  or  a  new 
performer  interested  her.  She  occupied  much  of  her  time  and 
attention  with  the  children  of  her  sister  Sophia,  one  of  whom, 
Harry  Horrebow,  had  appeared  with  credit  on  the  stage.  Her 
charms  were  now  almost  entirely  faded,  but  this  gave  her  no 
pangs  of  mortified  vanity.  "  Oh,"  she  would  playfully  remark, 
"  I  am  not  one  of  those  ladies  whose  looking-glasses  can  never 
persuade  them  they  are  getting  into  years."  And  she  would 
laughingly  add,  that,  on  reflection,  she  was  "  too  old  for  char- 
acters of  five-and-twenty." 

Just  before  she  left  the  stage  she  lost  her  father,  who  died 
in  April,  1801,  aged  seventy-two ;  and  soon  her  own  health  be- 
gan to  fail.  It  was  susi^ected  that  the  overturning  of  her 
coach  had  produced  some  internal  derangement,  which  even- 
tually proved  fatal.  The  sea  air  temporarily  restored  her,  but 
she  gradually  sank  under  the  efiects  of  a  painful  disease. 

She  expired  on  the  2d  of  October,  1805,  in  the  forty-second 
year  of  her  age.    The  injured  wife  had  always  spoken  with 


ANNA  MARIA  CEOUCH.  137 

the  utmost  kindness  of  Mv.  Crouch.  "  I  sinqerely  forgive  the 
whole  conduct  of  Mr.  Crouch  to  myself,"  she  often  said ;  "  he 
is  older  now,  and  I  hope  is  sufficiently  sensible  of  his  errors 
to  abjure  them,  and  render  the  present  object  of  his  choice, 
who  I  hear  is  a  deserving  woman,  far  happier  than  he  did  me ; 
and  they  may  rest  assured  that  I  will  never  take  the  least  step 
to  interrupt  their  felicity."  And  to  the  last  she  continued  to 
speak  kindly  of  him,  and  never  was  heard  to  betray  the  slight- 
est vindictive  feeling.  Just  before  her  death  she  expressed  a 
wish  to  be  interred  in  Brighton  church-yard,  saying  that  as  it 
pleased  God  she  should  die  at  Brighton,  she  might  be  buried 
there :  that  "  as  the  tree  falls,  there  let  it  lie." 

Michael  Kelly  placed  a  handsome  monument,  with  a  suitable 
inscription,  over  her  grave.  No  one  mourned  the  loss  of  the 
beautiful,  amiable,  and  talented  Anna  Maria  Crouch  more  than 
her  faithful  friend  and  comrade,  Michael  Kelly.  In  the  course 
oHns  Reminiscences,  ho  has  given  many  tributes  of  admiration 
to  that  sweetness  of  nature  which  made  her  beloved  in  private 
life,  and  to  her  talents,  which  gained  for  her  the  enthusiastic 
plaudits  of  the  most  fastidious  critics. 


138  QUEENS   OF   SONG. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

ANNA   SELINA   STOEACE. 

Nancy  Storage — ^her  name  was  properly  Anna  Selina,  but 
every  body  called  her  Nancy — was,  like  many  of  our  great  fe- 
male singers,  born  in  a  "  musical  clique."  Her  father  was  a 
Neapolitan  named  Storace,  and  a  good  performer  on  the  double 
basi ;  he  had  settled  in  London,  where  he  played  for  many 
years  at  the  Opera  House,  when  it  was  led  by  Felice  Giardini. 
He  married  one  of  the  Miss  Truslers,  of  Bath,  "  celebrated  for 
making  a  peculiar  sort  of  cake,"  Kelly  tells  us,  "  and  sister  to 
Dr.  Trusler,  well  known  in  the  literary  world  as  a  chronolo- 
gist." 

In  partnership  with  Dr.  Arnold  and  Lowe  the  singer,  Stor- 
ace opened  Marylebone  Gardens  in  1769,  for  the  performance 
of  burlettas  and  other  entertainments.  There  he  produced,  in 
nil,  a  musical  piece  called  the  Coquet,  and  a  translation  of 
La  Serva  Padrona.  The  speculation  succeeded  for  a  time, 
owing  to  the  attractions  of  the  music  and  Mrs.  Storace's  plum- 
cakes  ;  but,  after  a  while,  the  directors  began  to  squabble,  and 
were  obliged  to  give  uj)  their  enterprise,  with  loss. 

Nancy,  the  only  daughter,  was  born  in  1V65.  Lively  and 
imitative,  she  displayed  unusual  talent  at  a  very  tender  age, 
and  at  eight  she  could  play  and  sing  at  sight.  Her  brother 
Stephen,  who  was  just  two  years  her  senior,  was  even  more 
clever,  for  he  had  a  universal  genius.  "  He  was  the  most  gift- 
ed creature  I  ever  met  with :  an  enthusiast  and  a  genius,"  says 
Kelly;  but  he  especially  excelled  in  music  and  in  painting. 
While  Stephen  and  Nancy  were  little  children,  Sheridan  came 
to  lodge  with  their  father  in  the  winter  of  1772,  bringing  his 
fair  young  bride.  Miss  Linley,  from  Bath,  and,  being  doubt- 
less introduced  through  the  Truslers,  commenced  a  friendship 
which  always  remained  firm.  Sheridan  was  delighted  with 
the  bright,  clever  boy,  and  declared  afterward  that  if  he  had 
been  bred  to  the  law  he  would  indubitably  have  ai'rived  at  the 
dignity  of  lord  chancellor.     But  as  Stephen's  father  had  more 


ANNA  SELINA   STOEACE.  139 

influeuce  in  the  musical  tban  in  the  legal  world,  he  detevmined 
to  educate  the  boy  in  his  own  profession,  and  sent  him  to  the 
Conservatorio  St.  Onofrio  at  Naples. 

Nancy,  evincing  a  decided  taste  for  music,  was  trained  as  a 
singer,  and  had  the  good  fortune  to  obtain  the  instruction  of 
Rauzzini  and  Sacchini.  She  made  such  rapid  progress  under 
the  care  of  these  eminent  masters  that  papa  took  her  to  Na- 
ples, where  she  sang  at  some  of  the  oratorios  given  at  the  San 
Carlo  during  Lent.  She  was  very  well  liked,  and  being  now 
fifteen,  it  was  decided  that  she  should  formally  "  come  out." 
She  had  already  sung  as  a  juvenile  performer  at  the  meeting 
in  Hereford  in  IV 77,  with  her  first  master,  Rauzzini. 

They  took  her  accordingly,  about  1780,  to  Florence,  where 
the  famous  Marchesi  was  engaged  at  the  Pergola  Theatre,  and 
Nancy  was  engaged  as  "  second  woman"  in  the  Opera.  She 
had  not,  apparently,  all  the  qualities  necessary  to  insure  suc- 
cess to  a  female  singer:  there  was  an  unpleasant  "harshness" 
in  her  countenance,  though  her  physiognomy  was  striking 
when  lighted  up  by  lively  emotions ;  her  figure  was  clumsy, 
her  manner  totally  imfitted  for  serious  opera,  and  there  was  a 
certain  coarseness  in  her  voice.  Her  natural  style  was,  there- 
fore, necessarily  the  comic,  for  which  she  had  an  innate  humor ; 
and  she  was  an  excellent  actress,  though  her  musical  science 
was  such  that  she  could  sing  any  kind  of  music. 

Marchesi  did  not  much  like  her,  perhaps  because  she  was 
not  pretty ;  and  soon  they  came  to  open  warfare.  It  ha2:)pen- 
ed  that  Bianchi  had  composed  for  Marchesi  the  celebrated  cav- 
atina,  "  Sembianza  amabile  del  mio  bel  sole."  Marchesi  sang 
this  with  exquisite  taste,  and  in  one  of  the  passages  he  ran  up 
a  flight  of  semitone  octaves,  giving  the  last  note  with  such 
tremendous  power,  that  it  became  famous  under  the  title  of 
"La  bomba  di  Marchesi."  Immediately  after  he  sang  this  in 
the  opera,  Signora  Storace  had  to  sing  an  air  of  a  similar  char- 
acter, and,  fired  with  emulation,  she  took  it  into  her  head  that 
she  would  throw  out  "  a  bomba,"  and  she  executed  her  song 
with  a  brilliancy  which  amazed  and  enraptured  the  audience. 
Poor  Marchesi  was  furious  at  being  eclipsed,  and  indignant  at 
any  body  attempting  even  to  rival  him,  more  particularly  the 
"  second  woman ;"  and  Campigli,  the  impresario,  requested  her 
to  discontinue  the  air.  She  peremptorily  refused.  "I  have  as 
good  a  right  to  show  the  power  of  my  bomba  as  any  body 


140  QUEENS    OF   SONG. 

else,"  was  her  reply.  Marches!  declared  that  if  she  did  not 
quit  the  theatre,  he  would ;  and  the  manager,  fearing  to  lose  a 
singer  of  celebrity  like  Marchesi,  sided  with  the  imperious  sig- 
nor ;  so  poor  Nancy  was  dismissed. 

From  Florence  Nancy  went,  accompanied  by  her  mother 
and  brother,  to  Lucca,  and  thence  to  Leghorn,  where  she  had 
scarcely  arrived  when  she  made  an  acquaintance  which  was 
destined  to  exercise  some  influence  on  her  future  life.  She 
was  standing  with  her  brother  on  the  Mole,  at  eight  o'clock  in 
the  morning,  when  there  approached  a  figure  "  slender  as  a 
walking-stick,"  attired  in  a  Sicilian  capote,  with  a  quantity  of 
fair  hair  floating  over  the  shoulders,  a  face  so  delicately  fair, 
and  an  appearance  so  peculiarly  youthful,  that  the  ptrsonage, 
whoever  it  might  be,  was  evidently  a  girl  dressed  in  boy's 
clothes.  As  the  slim  form  stej^ped  lightly  from  the  boat  to 
the  landing-place,  Nancy  and  her  brother  began  to  laugh  and 
make  jocose  remarks  in  English  upon  the  supposed  girl.  They 
were  very  much  disconcerted  when,  addressing  Nancy  in  the 
same  language,  the  wearer  of  the  Sicilian  capote  and  the  flow- 
ing tresses  said, "  You  are  mistaken,  miss.  I  am  a  very  prop- 
er he  animal,  and  quite  at  your  service."  A  ringing  burst  of 
laughter  followed  this  speech ;  all  thre,e  laughed  till  they  were 
tired,  and  ultimately  became  fast  friends.  Stephen  asked  the 
stranger's  name :  it  was  Michael  Kelly,  who  was  coming  in 
search  of  bis  first  engagement,  and  they  invited  him  to  dinner. 

The  Signora  Storace  went  shortly  after  to  Venice,  where  she 
speedily  became  "  the  rage."  She  performed  at  the  Theatre 
St.  Samuele,  in  comic  opera,  with  a  powerful  company.  Every 
time  she  appeared  the  house  overflowed ;  and  when  she  took 
her  benefit — the  first  ever  given  to  any  performer  at  Venice, 
and  only  granted  to  her  because  she  was  an  Englishwoman — 
her  mamma  standing  at  the  door  to  take  the  money,  the  de- 
lighted Venetians  not  only  paid  the  usual  entrance-money,  but 
left  all  kinds  of  trinkets,  chains,  rings,  and  other  acceptable 
trifles  to  be  given  to  their  favorite. 

The  Emperor  Joseph,  hearing  of  the  clever  young  vocalist, 
invited  her  to  Vienna  in  1 784,  at  a  salary  of  eight  thousand 
ducats.  The  naive,  laughter-loving  girl  was  a  great  pet  with 
his  imperial  majesty,  despite  her  habit  of  committing  some 
gaucherie  in  the  etiquette  of  court  life,  and  involving  herself 
in  some  ludicrous  scrape.    The  emperor  himself,  however,  was 


ANNA  SELINA   STOEACE.  141 

noted  for  his  oddities,  and  often  made  tlie  most  sober  specta- 
tors indulge  in  a  quiet  titter ;  Lc  was  not,  therefore,  so  easily 
disconcerted  by  his  fair  English  friend  as  he  might  otherwise 
have  been.  One  day  the  signora  was  riding  in  the  Faubourg 
to  witness  a/e^e,  when  his  imperial  majesty  rode  up  and  asked 
if  she  was  amused,  inquiring  if  he  could  do  any  thing  for  her. 
With  her  usual  bluntness,  Nancy  took  him  at  his  word. 
"Why,  sire,"  she  said,  in  an  oif-hand  manner,  while  those 
about  her  held  their  breath  in  dismay,  "I  am  very  thirsty. 
Will  your  majesty  be  so  good  as  to  order  me  a  glass  of  wa- 
ter?" Joseph  good-humoredly  turned  round,  and  directed 
one  of  his  attendants  to  bring  it. 

About  this  time  she  involved  herself  in  a  mistake  of  a  more 
serious  nature.  There  was  a  certain  Dr.  Fisher,  a  violin-play- 
er, at  the  court  of  Vienna,  who  was  a  most  eccentric  man,  of 
very  peculiar  ideas,  an  inordinate  prattler,  and  fond  of  relating 
of  himself  the  most  extraordinary  things,  which  he  expected 
every  body  to  believe  implicitly.  He  was  a  preposterous  cox- 
comb, and,  though  disagreeably  ugly,  he  fixed  his  eye  on  Nancy 
Storace,  determining  that  she  should  be  his  second  spouse.  Of 
his  character  a  just  estimate  might  be  formed  from  an  anec- 
dote related  of  his  conduct  on  one  occasion  at  Covcnt  Garden 
Theatre.  In  right  of  his  first  wife — the  daughter  of  Mr.  Pow- 
ell— he  was  the  possessor  of  a  sixteenth  share  in  the  great  Lon- 
don operatic  establishment,  and  being  one  evening  in  the  green- 
room, he  rated  an  actress  for  having  torn  her  petticoat.  The 
actress  questioned  his  right  to  do  so.  "All  the  right  in  the 
world,  madam.  I  have  to  look  after  my  property,"  he  replied, 
loftily.  "For  know,  madam,  the  sixteenth  of  the  petticoat 
which  you  have  destroyed  belonged  to  me,  and  is  mine,  to  all 
intents  and  purposes." 

This  conceited  individual  laid  such  close  siege  to  the  heart 
of  poor  Nancy  that  she  was  fain  to  capitulate.  By  dint  of 
prodigious  perseverance,  and  frequently  taking  tea  with  her 
mamma,  he  persuaded  the  young  lady  that  he  was  one  of  the 
nicest  fellows  in  the  universe,  and  that  she  could  not  do  better 
than  accept  his  hand  and  heart,  and  share  his  musical  fame. 
Nancy  was  bewitched :  her  friends  remonstrated  in  vain,  and 
she  became  Mrs.  Fisher.  The  marriage  ceremony  was  per- 
formed by  a  Protestant  German  clergyman  in  the  chapel  of 
the  Dutch  embassador.    Dr.  Adam  Auersperg  and  Lord  Mount 


142  QUEENS   OF   SONG. 

Edgecumbe  led  the  bride  to  the  altar,  and  the  wedding  break- 
fast Avas  given  by  the  English  minister,  Sir  Robert  Keith, 
whose  proxy  was  the  music-loving  earl. 

Scarcely  was  she  married  than  she  repented  of  her  rashness. 
She  and  her  caro  sposo  spent  their  entire  leisure  in  fighting — 
literally,  not  figuratively ;  the  doctor,  it  was  said,  making  no 
scruple  of  enforcing  his  arguments  with  his  young  bride  by  a 
word  and  a  blow,  the  blow  coming  first.  One  of  her  friends 
went  to  the  emperor— the  good-natured  Joseph— and  detailed 
this  unfortunate  concatenation  of  circumstances,  whereupon  his 
majesty  significantly  suggested  to  the  doctor  that  travel  some- 
times enlarges  the  ideas.  The  violinist  prudently  took  the 
broad  hint  in  good  part,  and  repaired  to  Ireland,  where,  being 
much  admired  for  his  skill  on  the  violin,  he  supported  himself 
by  teaching  and  playing  at  concerts. 

During  the  visit  of  the  Duke  of  York  to  Vienna,  Stephen 
Storace  produced  his  first  opera,  in  which  his  sister,  who  had 
now  resumed  her  maiden  name,  and  Michael  Kelly,  took  the 
leading  parts.  In  the  middle  of  the  first  act  Signora  Storace 
suddenly  lost  her  voice,  and  she  in  vain  strove  to  recover  her- 
self: she  could  not  force  a  note.  This  made  her  wretched,  not 
only  on  her  own  account,  but  because  it  caused  the  failure  of 
the  opera.  There  is  little  doubt  that  the  loss  of  her  voice  was 
occasioned  by  nervous  excitement  consequent  upon  her  rash 
and  unhai^py  marriage. 

For  five  months  she  had  no  voice,  and  she  Avas  beginning  to 
despair  of  its  return,  when  all  at  once  she  discovered  to  her 
great  joy  that  she  could  carol  in  her  old  bird-like  tones.  In  a 
delirium  of  delight  she  ran  to  inform  her  brother  of  the  fact. 
His  second  opera,  the  Equivoci,  adapted  by  Da  Ponte  from  the 
Comedy  of  Errors^  was  put  in  rehearsal  without  delay ;  and 
the  elated  singer  made  her  brother  ample  amends  for  her  for- 
mer unlooked-for  failure.  This  opera  had  a  long  and  brilliant 
run,  and  established  the  musical  reputation  of  Stephen  at  Vi- 
enna. 

Some  time  after  this  Stephen  Storace  left  Vienna  for  En- 
gland, returning  in  1787  with  an  engagement  for  Nancy  from 
Gallini  (then  manager  of  the  Opera  House  in  Loudon)  as  prima 
donna  for  the  comic  opera.  Her  engagement  at  Vienna  was 
to  expire  after  the  ensuing  Carnival,  and  she  gladly  accepted 
this  ofler  of  appearing  in  London.     Kelly  resolved  to  leave 


ANNA   SELINA   STOKACE.  143 

Vienna  likewise,  and  waited  on  the  emperor  at  Schonbrunn, 
from  whom  he  obtained  permission  to  depart.  The  same  night 
he  went  to  the  Ridotto  Rooms,  and  was  induced,  contrary  to 
his  usual  habit,  to  join  in  some  play  going  forward.  He  lost 
forty  zecchinos  to  a  gallant  English  colonel,  and,  having  only 
twenty  in  his  pocket,  was  obliged  to  promise  to  pay  the  other 
twenty  in  the  course  of  the  week.  His  folly  came  to  the  ears 
of  Nancy,  and  the  next  morning  she  called  on  him  very  early. 
"  So,  sir,"  she  said,  with  a  severe  countenance,  "  I  hear  you 
were  gambling  last  night,  and  not  only  lost  all  the  money  you 
bad  about  you,  but  are  still  in  debt.  Such  debts  ought  not  to 
be  left  unsatisfied  a  moment.  You  may  one  day  or  other  go 
to  England,  and  should  the  transaction  of  your  playing  for 
more  than  you  possess  become  known  among  the  English,  it 
might  give  you  a  character  which  I  know  you  do  not  deserve. 
It  must  be  settled  directly."  She  drew  the  twenty  zecchinos 
from  her  pocket,  and  told  him  to  go  at  once  and  discharge  the 
obligation.  "  Such  an  act  of  well-timed,  disinterested  friend- 
ship was  noble,"  said  Kelly  years  after, "and  never  has  been 
forgotten  by  me." 

Every  thing  was  arranged  for  their  departure,  when,  four 
days  before  the  appointed  time,  a  slight  contretemps  nearly 
broke  up  the  plans  of  the  party.  Some  friends  supped  with 
Kelly  and  Stephen  at  the  Ridotto  Rooms,  and  the  latter,  though 
habitually  sober,  drank  too  much  Champagne.  From  the  sup- 
per-table they  adjourned  to  the  ballroom,  where  they  saw 
Nancy  Storace  dancing  with  an  officer  in  full  uniform,  booted 
and  spurred.  "While  waltzing,  the  officer's  spurs  entangled  in 
Nancy's  dress,  and  he  fell,  with  his  flair  partner,  to  the  ground, 
"  to  the  great  amusement  of  the  by-standers."  Stephen,  fancy- 
ing his  sister  had  been  intentionally  insulted,  flew  at  the  offi- 
cer, whom  he  furiously  attacked,  and  the  uproar  and  confusion 
ended  by  half  a  dozen  gendarmes  seizing  Stephen  and  drag- 
ging him  to  the  guard-house.  Several  English  gentlemen  who 
were  present  followed  him;  and  the  officer  of  the  guard,  being 
a  good-natured  man,  allowed  them  to  send  for  any  thing  they 
chose ;  so  the  party  remained  with  the  prisoner  all  night,  mak- 
ing his  durance  as  pleasant  as  possible  under  the  circumstances. 
The  next  evening  Kelly  placed  himself  in  the  corridor  lead- 
ing from  the  dining-room  to  the  emperor's  study.  Joseph, 
passing  through,  in  his  usual  custom,  saw  Kelly,  and  paused, 


144  QUEENS   OP   SONG. 

saying,  "  Why,  O'Kelly,  I  thought  you  were  off  to  England." 
"  I  can't  go,  sire.  My  friend,  who  was  to  travel  with  me,  was 
last  night  put  in  prison."  And  he  related  the  unfortunate  af- 
fair. The  emperor  laughed.  "  I  am  sorry  for  Storace,"  said 
he,  "  for  he  is  a  man  of  great  talent ;  but  I  regret  to  observe 
that  some  of  the  English  gentry  who  travel  appear  much  alter- 
ed from  what  they  used  to  be.  Formerly  they  traveled  after 
they  had  quitted  college;  it  appears  to  me  that  now  they 
travel  before  they  go  to  it.  JBon  voyage,  O'Kelly,"  he  add- 
ed, passing  on ;  "I  shall  give  directions  that  Storace  may  be 
set  at  liberty." 

Anna  Storace  made  her  first  appearance  at  the  King's  The- 
atre, with  Signer  Borelli — a  basso  of  remarkable  talent — in 
Paesiello's  comic  opera,  Gli  Schiave  per  Amore,  as  Gelinda. 
Her  performance  in  this  opera  established  her  reputation,  and 
her  success  was  so  great  that  she  determined  on  settling?  in 
England.  Sometimes  she  appeared  alone,  sometimes  she  was 
called  in  to  give  additional  strength  to  a  particular  opera,  as 
in  Martini's  Arbore  di  Diana,  with  Fabi'izi,  Viganoni,  Braham, 
and  Morelli,  and  in  La  Cosa  Rara,  when  Mrs.  Billington  was 
substituted  for  Fabrizi. 

Stephen  had  the  direction  of  the  Italian  O^iera  for  a  short 
time,  and  gained  considerable  applause  for  the  manner  in  which 
he  produced  the  fii'st  piece  in  which  his  sister  appeared.  But 
his  ardent,  open  nature  soon  revolted  against  the  petty  in- 
trigues and  jealousies  of  the  green-room,  so  he  gave  up  in  dis- 
gust his  musical  pursuits,  and  went  to  Bath,  where  he  devoted 
himself  to  drawing,  in  which  art  he  excelled. 

Signora  Storace  sang  at  the  Ancient  Concerts  at  the  end  of 
the  year,  and  on  the  8th  of  December  the  King's  Theatre 
opened  under  the  direction  of  Mazzinghi,  with  a  new  comic 
opera  by  Paesiello,  II  lih  Teodora  in  Venezia,  in  which  Sig- 
nora Storace,  Signora  Sestini,  and  Signer  Morelli  supported  the 
principal  characters.  Morelli  had  a  bass  void©  of  a  fine  rich 
mellow  quality,  and  was  an  excellent  actor. 

The  engagement  of  Mara  and  Rubinelli  having  terminated, 
and  the  latter  quitting  England,  the  season  of  1788  began  with 
comic  opera,  in  which  Signora  Storace  took  the  lead.  Benucci 
was  the  first  buffo,  but  his  fine  bass  voice,  excellent  acting,  and 
undoubted  talent  were  not  enough  to  make  him  a  popular  fa- 
vorite.    In  the  following  season  the  comic  performers  were 


ANNA   SKLINA   STORAGE.  145 

dismissed,  and  exchanged  for  a  new  set,  "  all  execrable."  The 
dancers,  too,  were  so  bad  that  loud  dissatisfaction  was  express- 
ed every  night,  and  the  manager  was  at  last  compelled  to  send 
to  Paris  for  a  better  corps  de  ballet,  with  whom  came  the  fa- 
mous Mdlle.  Guimard,  then,  it  was  whispered,  nearly  sixty 
years  of  age,  but  who  looked  a  charming  sprite  before  the 
lamps.  Signora  Storace  then  transferred  her  services  to  Drury 
Lane,  where  she  was  received  gladly  as  a  most  effective  bur- 
letta  singer.  She  was  a  valuable  addition  to  any  theatrical 
establishment,  even  apart  from  her  talents,  for  she  was  never 
more  happy  than  when  attending  to  her  professional  duties. 
She  defied  colds  and  nervous  complaints,  wearing  strong  "shoes 
in  the  dry  and  pattens  in  the  wet"  to  and  from  the  theatre. 

The  first  comic  singer,  Signora  Giuliani,  not  having  pleased 
the  public,  Signora  Storace  was  re-engaged  in  1789  at  the 
King's  Theatre,  and  appeared  on  the  11th  of  June  in  Paisicl- 
lo's  comic  opera,  IlBarhiere  di  Seviglia,  as  Rosina.  She  sang 
the  airs  with  great  taste  and  animation,  and  was  ably  support- 
ed by  the  spirit  and  humor  of  Signor  Roselli,  who  made  his 
first  appearance  as  Figaro. 

She  returned  to  Drury  Lane  the  next  season,  when  the 
Haunted  Toxoer  was  produced  on  the  24th  of  November,  1789. 
Stephen  Storace  (having  returned  to  the  theatre)  composed 
the  music,  for  the  copyright  of  which  he  received  five  hundred 
pounds.  The  cast  was  good:  Lord  William,  Michael  Kelly ; 
Edward,  Mr.  Bannister;  Lady  Elinor,  Mrs.  Crouch ;  Adela, 
Signora  Storace.  Baddeley,  Moody,  Suett,  Dignum,  Sedgwick, 
also  combined  to  add  to  the  attractions.  The  success  of  this 
piece  was  wonderful ;  it  continued  to  "  draw"  for  fifty  nights, 
and  was  for  a  long  time  afterward  a  favorite. 

The  next  year,  the  charming  little  operetta.  No  Song  no 
Supper^  by  Prince  Hoare,  was  brought  out  for  the  benefit  of 
Kelly,  in  which  Signora  Storace  acted  Margaretta,  and  made 
a  great  "hit."  She  was  admirable  as  an  actress,  though  her 
imperfect  knowledge  of  the  English  language  was  against  her; 
but  for  this  defect  she  amply  atoned  by  her  vivacity  and  arch 
humor,  though  her  manner  Avas  a  little  vulgar.  Her  ballad, 
"  With  lowly  suit"  (the  melody  of  which  was  taken  from  an 
old  street  ditty),  was  so  admired  as  to  be  always  honored  with 
a  unanimous  encore.  The  operetta  was  received  with  great 
applause,  and  remained  for  years  a  favorite  with  the  pubUc, 
10  G 


146  QUEENS    OF   SONG. 

being  also  remarkable  as  the  only  entertainment  on  the  stage 
in  which  real  edibles  were  provided ;  for,  no  matter  where  it 
was  played,  a  veritable  leg  of  mutton  invariably  figured  on  the 
table. 

This  season  there  were  oratorios  at  both  the  winter  theatres. 
Those  at  Drury  Lane  began  on  Friday,  February  19th,  with 
the  Messiah^  which  was  admirably  sung  by  Reinhold  and  Kel- 
ly, Mrs.  Crouch  and  Signora  Storace. 

The  8iege  of  Belgrade  was  produced  January  1,  1791,  Sig- 
nora Storace,  Kelly,  Bannister  junior,  and  Mrs.  Crouch  appear- 
ing in  it.  This  opera  presented  a  marked  instance  of  the  rapid 
transition  which  English  opera  had  made  "  from  the  simplicity 
of  the  musical  farce  to  the  captivating  splendors  of  the  Italian 
drama."  The  copyright  was  sold  for  a  thousand  pounds.  In 
1792,  The  Pifates^  an  opera  by  Stephen  Storace,  in  which  he 
introduced  some  of  the  music  from  the  JEquivoci,  was  pro- 
duced. The  scenery  was  designed  by  Stephen  himself,  from 
sketches  made  at  Naples, 

In  March,  1796,  Stephen  Storace,  when  actively  engaged  in 
the  production  of  the  Iron  Chesty  was  suddenly  attacked  by 
gout,  and  his  anxiety  to  see  the  piece  produced  pi'operly  was 
so  intense  that,  against  the  entreaties  of  his  wife  and  best 
friends,  he  insisted  on  going  to  see  the  last  rehearsal.  Wrap- 
ped up  in  blankets,  he  was  carried  in  a  sedan-chair  to  the  cold 
stage  of  the  theatre,  where  he  remained  to  the  end  of  the  re- 
hearsal, after  which  he  returned  to  his  bed,  from  which  he 
never  rose  again.  Pie  died  on  the  19th  of  the  month,  at  the 
early  age  of  thirty-three,  leaving  several  children  and  a  widow, 
daughter  of  Mr.  Hall,  the  engraver.     Deeply  regretted  by  his  j|_ 

friends,  their  first  thought  was  to  provide  as  far  as  possible  for 
the  helpless  ones  he  had  left,  and  a  benefit  was  given  on  the 
30th,  when  the  incomplete  opera  of  3Iahmot(d  was  performed, 
with  the  consent  of  Hoare,  the  librettist,  some  additional  mu- 
sic having  been  selected  by  the  composer's  sister,  to  render  the 
work  presentable. 

England  became  insupportable  to  Signora  Storace  after  the 
death  of  her  brother ;  so,  resigning  her  lucrative  engagement 
at  Drury  Lane,  she  accompanied  Braham  on  a  musical  tour  in 
1797. 

They  first  visited  Paris,  where  they  intended  to  have  made 
only  a  brief  sojourn ;  but  finding  themselves  petted,  applauded, 


ANNA   SELINA   STORAGE.  147 

and  besieged  with  entreaties  to  stay,  they  consented  to  give  a 
series  of  concerts.  Tickets  were  issued  at  the  novel  price  of 
one  louis,  a  sum  never  before  given  at  any  concert  in  the  then 
fashionable  republic,  the  general  price  being  six  livres ;  but, 
notwithstanding  the  increased  price  of  the  tickets,  their  per- 
formances brought  together  numerous  and  elegant  audiences, 
and  they  remained  eight  months  in  Paris,  which  they  at  length 
left  with  difficulty.  They  then  went  to  Turin,  Milan,  Venice, 
Florence,  Leghorn,  Genoa,  and  many  other  cities,  meeting  ev- 
ery where  with  success  beyond  their  most  sanguine  expector 
tions. 

After  four  years  of  this  wandering  life,  they  returned  to 
England  on  the  ^urgent  entreaties  of  Mr.  Harris,  who  made 
them  offi^rs  impossible  to  resist,  and  December  9th,  1801,  they 
appeared  in  the  opera  of  Chains  of  the  Heart,  which  had  been 
manufactured  by  Prince  Hoare  out  of  several  popular  dramas. 
The  marked  contempt  evinced  by  the  audience  for  this  "  tissue 
of  nonsense  and  folly"  agitated  Signora  Storace  to  such  a 
degree  that  she  was  nearly  deprived  of  her  powers.  She  re- 
covered herself,  however,  and  went  through  her  part  with  her 
"  usual  ability  and  archness,"  though  the  critics  objected  that 
the  character  was  too  "  genteel"  for  her  style.  Braham  was 
"  prodigiously  impressive,"  according  to  the  theatrical  critics 
of  the  day,  displaying  not  only  a  voice  of  exquisite  sweetness 
and  flexibiUty,  but  Avonderful  taste  and  executive  skill.  The 
new  style  which  he  had  adopted  during  his  absence  from  En- 
gland was  not  at  first  generally  popular ;  the  public  were  not 
accustomed  to  the  profusion  of  embellishment  with  which  he 
embroidered  even  the  most  simple  airs ;  indeed,  he  himself  did 
not  admire  the  florid  style,  though  he  assisted  to  make  it  fash- 
ionable. 

In  February,  the  following  year,  Braham's  popular  opera. 
The  Cabinet,  was  brought  out,  in  which  Storace  appeared  (as 
Floretta)  with  Braham  and  Incledon;  and  on  the  loth  of 
March  she  took  her  benefit  (at  Covent  Garden),  when  the 
Siege  of  Belgrade  and  Xo  Song  no  Siqyj^cr  were  performed  to 
an  overflowing  house. 

In  1803,  Harris,  the  spirited  proprietor  of  Covent  Garden, 
produced  on  the  13th  of  December  a  new  comic  opera  by  Dib- 
din  and  Braham,  called  the  English  Fleet  in  1342.  The  airs 
which  were  sung  by  Signora  Storace  and  Braham  were  not  so 


148  QUEENS   OF   SONG. 

effective  as  those  of  Tlie  Cabinet,  and  the  English  Fleet  had 
to  encounter  a  tempest  of  opposition  at  its  launch;  "but, 
through  the  skill  of  its  pilot,  Mr,  Harris,  it  was  at  length 
brought  into  safe  and  secure  anchorage,  where,  with  flying 
colors,  it  afterward  rode  in  triumph,"  For  this  piece  Braham 
received  the  largest  sum  that  had  ever  been  paid  for  the  copy- 
right of  a  musical  drama — one  thousand  guineas. 

A  violent  dispute  arose  between  Braham  and  the  manager 
when  Signora  Storace  took  her  benefit,  April  1st,  1805,  orig- 
inating in  the  refusal  of  the  manager  to  give  Braham  the  priv- 
ilege of  selecting  songs  for  the  night's  programme.  This  re- 
fusal the  tenor  chose  to  regard  in  the  light  of  an  insult,  and, 
after  some  altercation,  sent  in  his  resignation ;  but,  that  the 
signora  might  not  suffer,  he  appeared  that  evening  in  the  Siege 
of  Belgrade.  Tlie  public  took  up  the  quarrel,  and  marshaled 
itself  into  two  parties.  The  house  was  crowded,  and  the  in- 
stant the  popular  tenor  appeared  on  the  stage,  the  uproar  be- 
gan, and  the  clamor  became  so  deafening  that  it  was  in  vain 
Braham  attempted  to  make  himself*  audible.  Wearied  with 
their  own  noise,  the  rioters  at  last  desisted,  and  consented  to 
hear  what  Braham  had  to  say.  He  stated  that  it  had  been  hith- 
erto the  custom  to  allow  him  the  privilege  he  had  claimed,  and 
he  had  exercised  it  without  opposition,  having  always  taken 
what  songs  he  pleased  from  any  operas  he  liked,  to  introduce 
them  in  any  piece  for  his  benefit.  That  this  established  custom 
having  now  for  the  first  time  been  refused  by  the  manager,  he 
could  only  consider  such  refusal  as  personal  to  himself,  and 
that  he  felt  proportionately  hurt,  not  from  being  denied  the 
privilege,  but  from  the  abrupt  withdrawal.  An  explanation 
from  the  opposition  was  then  vehemently  demanded,  and  some 
one  came  forward  to  offer  an  apology ;  but  Kemble,  as  acting 
manager,  was  violently  called  for.  He  was  not  in  the  house, 
nor  was  it  known  where  he  was  to  be  found.  However,  the 
audience  insisted  that  he  should  appear. 

After  some  delay  Mr.  Kemble  came  on,  and  stated  that  Mr, 
Braham  might  have  been  permitted  to  take  whatever  songs 
he  pleased  from  pieces  that  were  not  now  on  the  stock-list,  but 
not  from  those  which  still  brought  money  to  the  theatre.  The 
audience  at  last  allowed  the  opera  to  proceed. 

During  the  latter  part  of  this  summer  Signora  Storace  and 
Braham  were  engaged  to  perform  six  nights  at  the  Brighton 


ANNA   SELINA   STORAGE.  149 

Theatre.  In  the  rehearsal  of  their  first  opera,  the  Haunted 
Toicer^  when  Braham's  leading  song,  "  Spirit  of  my  sainted 
sire,"  came  on,  it  was  discovered  that  there  were  no  kettle- 
drums ;  and  as  the  absence  of  the  drum  accompaniment  would 
completely  ruin  the  song,  the  manager  faithfully  promised  that 
the  drums  should  be  behind  the  scenes  in  the  evening.  At 
night  the  drums  were  at  hand,  but  there  was  no  one  to  beat 
them  I  Braham  and  the  manager  were  in  despair,  as  the  song 
was  to  be  given  immediately.  Storace,  who  was  standing  by, 
seized  the  drumsticks,  and,  with  her  usual  merry  manner,  un- 
dertook to  beat  the  drums,  a  task  which  she  performed  as  if 
she  had  been  a  drummer  all  her  life. 

From  various  reasons  Signora  Storace  resolved  to  quit  the 
stage  in  1808.  She  was  aware  that  her  voice  was  of  a  nature 
to  crack  and  grow  husky,  and  she  had  made  enough  to  retire 
on  in  comfort.  On  the  30th  of  May  she  appeared  for  the  last 
time  on  the  stage,  in  her  favorite  part  of  Margaretta,  in  No 
Song  no  Sup2)er.  Colman  wrote  for  her  a  farewell  address  of 
about  two  dozen  lines,  which  she  sang  in  that  character,  thus 
making  "  a  swanlike  end,  fading  in  music."  Her  emotion  was 
visibly  perceptible,  and  was  more  than  her  strength  could  bear. 
When  she  reached  the  line, "  Farewell,  and  bless  you  all  for- 
ever !"  she  was  so  overcome  by  her  feelings  that  she  was  borne 
senseless  from  the  stage.  She  quitted  the  stage  esteemed  and 
regretted  by  all  Opera  frequenters,  and  withdrew  altogether 
into  private  life,  reserving  her  inimitable  powers  for  the  amuse- 
ment of  her  friends.  She  was  visited  in  her  retirement  by  a 
large  circle  of  noble  and  fashionable  acquaintances,  for  she  en- 
joyed a  considerable  income,  was  luxurious  in  her  habits,  in- 
telligent and  agreeable,  and  considerably  accomplished.  Every 
year  she  gave  a  fcte^ "  to  which  the  love  of  whim  drew  some, 
and  the  folly  of  fashion  drew  others." 

Seven  years  after  her  retirement  Signora  Storace  was  dining 
with  her  old  friend  Kelly,  who  had  invited  Signor  Ambrogetti 
and  another  friend  to  meet  her,  when  suddenly  she  was  seized 
with  a  shivering  fit,  and  complained  of  being  very  ill.  The 
next  day  Dr.  Hooper  advised  her  to  be  bled ;  but  this  she  ve- 
hemently refused,  because  it  was  Friday,  her  superstitious  feel- 
ings making  her  regard  it  as  an  unlucky  omen.  It  may  fairly 
be  said  that  she  sacrificed  herself  to  this  superstition,  for  it  was 
confidently  asserted  that  had  she  lost  blood  her  life  might  have 


150  QUEENS    OF   SONG, 

been  saved.     She  died  at  her  counti-y  house  at  Heme  Hill,  at 
the  age  of  forty-nine,  May,  1815,  of  dropsy  of  long  standing. 

Her  generosities  were  as  numerous  as  her  eccentricities.  She 
left  a  legacy  of  a  thousand  pounds  to  the  Royal  Society  of  Mu- 
sicians. She  had  already  contributed  largely  toward  erecting 
in  the  Abbey  Church,  at  Bath,  a  monument  to  her  old  master, 
the  celebrated  Rauzzini. 


I 


ilKS.  iJlLLINGTON. 


ELIZABETH   BILLINGTON. 


153 


CHAPTER  XIII. 


ELIZABETH    BILLINGTON. 


One  of  the  leading  performers  in  the  orchestra  of  our  Italian 
Opera,  about  the  middle  of  the  last  century,  was  a  native  of 
Saxony  named  Charles  Weichsel,  His  wife  (whose  maiden 
name  was  Wierman)  was  a  leading  vocalist  at  Vauxhall,  who 
appeared  at  the  Hereford  Musical  Meeting  in  1768  and  1769. 
She  had  been  a  pupil  of  John  Christian  Bach,  who  came  to 
England  in  1763,  and  her  talents  were  highly  appreciated  by 
the  frequenters  of  Vauxhall,  where  she  sang  from  1765  to  1775. 
Her  voice  was  of  unusual  compass,  reaching  to  the  E  in  alt,  and 
it  had  one  striking  pecuHarity — an  approximation  to  the  tone 
of  a  clarionet,  from  which  instrument  she  had  studied  her  sol- 
feggio. Her  facility  of  execution  was  singular,  her  style  was 
elegant  and  florid,  and  she  had  attained  a  remai'kablc  neatness 
in  staccato  passages,  in  which  she  rivaled  the  pizzicato  of  the 
best  violinists  of  the  day.  The  only  defect  in  her  otherwise 
mellow  voice  was  a  certain  reediness  of  tone.* 

This  musical  couple  had  two  children,  a  girl,  born  in  1770, 
in  Litchfield  Street,  Soho,  named  Elizabeth,  and  a  son  named 
Charles.  Both  were  clever  and  sprightly,  and  displayed  a  gen- 
uine love  of  music ;  they  studied  together,  and  were  very  much 
attached ;  but  the  girl's  taste  turned  toward  singing  and  piano- 
forte performance,  and  the  boy's  toward  the  violin.  EUzabeth, 
whose  general  musical  education  was  superintended  by  her  fa- 
ther, with  a  severity  amounting  to  harshuess,;rcceived  instruc- 
tion from  li(jL-  faUu  r's  countryman,  Schroeter,  and  occasionally 

*  "Mrs.  Weichsel  imitated  the  tones  of  her  husband's  hautboy  till  she  con- 
tracted a  reedy  tone.  I  mentioned  the  circumstance  one  day  to  Mrs.  Billing- 
ton,  at  FuUiam,  when,  taking  me  to  the  window,  and  pointing  to  an  old  gen- 
tleman, who  was  walking  at  the  farther  end  of  the  garden,  'Yonder,'  she  said, 
'  is  the  cause.  The  applause  with  which  my  father's  excellence  on  his  favor- 
ite instrument  (the  hautboy)  was  uniformly  received,  led  my  mother  to  copy 
its  tones  till  she  lost  her  own.  Sensible  of  her  mistake,  I  have  always  pre- 
ferred to  emulate,  with  what  success  I  know  not,  the  more  liquid  notes  of  the 
flute.'"— BusBT. 

G2 


/ 


n 


v\ 


154     "  QUEENS    OF   SONG. 

from  some  of  the  first  masters  of  the  time,  who  were  aston- 
ished at  her  rapid  progress  and  early  proficiency :  lessons  which 
to  others  would  have  been  tasks,  were  with  her  mere  pastimes. 
At  the  asre  of  seven  she  assisted  at  her  mother's  benefit  at  the 
little  theatre  in  the  Ilaymarket,  singing  and  playing  on  the 
piano  in  a  way  that  surprised  every  one.     Her  brother  Charles 
also  played  a  solo  on  the  violin  in  a  style  which  delighted  and 
astonished  the  public,  always  ready  to  welcome  juvenile  j^he- 
nomena. 
I      Elizabeth,  when  she  was   only  eleven,  composed  original 
I  pieces  for  the  piano-forte ;  and  at  fourteen,  when  others  were 
^beginning  to  study,  she  appeared  at  a  concert  at  Oxford.     As 
she  grew  older,  she  continued  her  piano-forte  studies  under  the 
care  of  Mr.  Thomas  Billington,  one  of  the  band  belonging  to 
Drury  Lane.     He  was  a  clever,  pleasant  man ;  she  was  young 
and  lovely,  with  bewitching  manners ;  they  were  both  young    j 
and  deplorably  poor,  but  they  Avere  romantic,  and  papa  was   { 
unbearably  severe  and  irritating.     The  natural  consequence   \ 
was,  that  they  were  married  at  Lambeth  Church,  at  the  begin-    \ 
ning  of  1785,  in  direct  opposition  to  the  wishes  of  Elizabeth's     \ 
parents. 

Too  soon  the  young  pair  found  themselves  in  a  sad  predica- 
ment. They  had  no  money,  and  were  at  their  wit's  end  ;  so, 
pressed  by  necessity,  they  went  on  a  journey  of  speculation  to 
Dublin,  where  they  succeeded  in  obtaining  engagements  at  the 
theatre  in  Smock  Alley,  from  Richard  Daly.  Mrs.  Billington 
made  her  first  appearance  on  the  lyric  stage  at  the  age  of  fif-  : 
teen  in  Gliick's  opera  of  Orpheus  and  EiirycUce,  with  the  eel-  * 
ebrated  Tenducci.  Tenducci  Avas  a  very  fine  singer,  and  a 
popular  favorite.  In  1*760  he  had  delighted  the  Dublin  public 
by  his  performance  as  Arbaces,  and  his  exquisite  singing  of  the 
air  "  Water  parted  from  the  Sea,"  in  Artaxerxes.  At  his  ben- 
efits he  used  to  obtain  thirty,  forty,  and  even  fifty  guineas  for 
a  single  ticket.  The  "  frolicsome  Dublin  boys"  sang  about  the 
streets,  in  his  honor,  this  stanza,  to  the  old  tune  of"  Over  the 
hills  and  far  away." 

"Tenrlucci  was  a,  piper's  son, 
And  he  was  in  love  when  he  was  young, 
And  all  the  tunes  that  he  could  play, 
Was  'Water  parted  from  the  say  !'" 

Unfortunately,  the  aspiring  young  vocalist,  Mrs.  Billington, 


ELIZABETH   BILLINGTON.  155 

was  doomed  to  disappointment  and  mortification,  for  the  audi- 
ence infinitely  preferred  a  Miss  Wheeler,  and  always  applauded 
her,  taking  no  notice  of  the  new-comer.  This  was  very  vexa- 
tious, but  her  annoyances  did  not  cease  here.  Daly,  the  man- 
ager— they  called  him  "Dick  the  Dasher" — was  an  intolerable 
tyrant,  and  ground  down  his  wretched  comjiany  in  order  to 
keep  his  carriage  and  squander  money  on  his  own  pleasures. 
Brutal  and  overbearing,  he  was  constantly  exacting  forfeits  on 
every  imaginable  pretense.  Another  uncomfortable  circum- 
stance was  that  every  performer,  however  respectable,  on  go- 
ing to  receive  the  week's  salary,  was  obliged  to  stand  on  a  dis- 
mal narrow  staircase  which  led  to  the  oflice,  huddled  together 
with  the  lamplighters,  scene-shifters,  carpenters,  tailors,  and 
supernumeraries,  the  latter  being  frequently  so  distressed  as  to 
be  driven  to  stealing  the  clothes  of  the  performers.  Daly  was 
continually  threatening,  on  the  slightest  pretext,  to  throw  per- 
formers into  prison,  in  order  to  bully  them  into  yielding  to  his 
schemes,  or  to  take  revenge  for  imaginary  oifenses. 

Disgusted  by  the  annoyances  to  which  she  was  subjected, 
the  timid  debutante  almost  relinquished  the  stage  in  despair ; 
but  another  engagement  was  obtained  for  her  at  the  Capel 
Street  Theatre,  then  under  the  management  of  Signor  Gior- 
dani.  About  the  end  of  this  summer  a  girl  Avas  born  to  the 
young  couple,  but  it  did  not  live  long. 

Mrs.  Billington  left  Dublin,  and  went  to  Waterford  with  her 
husband,  who  was  engaged  in  the  orchestra  of  the  theatre 
there.  It  happened  that  the  company  were  getting  up  some 
difficult  musical  performance,  and  wanted  a  female  voice ;  so, 
seizing  the  auspicious  opportunity,  Billington  asked  permission 
to  bring  his  wife,  a  request  which  astonished  every  body,  for 
till  that  moment  no  one  had  heard  of  her.  She  was  introduced, 
and  took  by  storm  those  of  the  actors  who  listened  to  her,  for 
she  united  to  great  musical  science  rare  natural  gifts  as  a  vo- 
calist ;  her  beauty,  too,  was  of  a  brilliant  type,  and  altogether 
she  created  a  "sensation"  among  the  performers.  John  Ber- 
nard, the  actor,  who  entertained  a  lively  friendship  for  Billing- 
ton, volunteered  to  give  the  young  singer  any  assistance  or 
advice  in  studying  one  or  two  characters ;  and  after  the  lapse 
of  a  few  mornings  she  was  perfect  not  only  in  the  words,  but 
the  characters  of  Rosctta  and  Clarissa.  A  full  rehearsal  was 
called,  and  the  only  objection  raised  against  her  Avas,  that  ti- 


156  QUEENS    OF   SONG. 

inidity  almost  paralyzed  her  powers :  this  explained  the  secret 
of  her  failure  in  Dublin.  However,  after  some  farther  rehears- 
als, she  gained  such  confidence  that  the  manager  put  her  name 
in  the  bills,  and  she  appeared  in  public.  Her  success  "was 
equal  to  her  deserts ;"  yet,  at  the  conclusion  of  the  season,  she 
was  without  an  engagement.  Her  husband,  being  in  the  same 
predicament,  went  to  Bernard,  and  begged  him  to  nse  his  in- 
fluence with  Mr.  Palmer,  of  the  Bath  Theatre,  in  procuring 
him  a  situation.  Bernard  received  for  answer  that  the  ar- 
rangements for  the  orchestra  had  been  long  since  comf)leted, 
but  that  if  the  young  couple  chose  to  join  the  company  under 
the  condition  of  making  themselves  generally  useful.  Palmer 
would  give  them  three  guineas  a  week.  Billmgton,  of  course, 
gladly  received  the  ofler ;  but  circumstances  induced  the  pair 
to  return  to  Dublin,  where  Mrs.  Billington  sang  again  at  the 
Rotunda  with  some  success ;  they  then  went  to  London. 

Mrs.  BiUington,  who  now  felt  confident  in  her  powers,  ap- 
plied to  Harris,  the  proprietor,  and  Lewis,  the  manager,  of 
Covent  Garden,  for  an  engagement.     They  replied  that  if  she 
liked  to  perform  three  nights,  they  would  be  willing  to  give 
her  a  trial ;  but  so  short  a  probation  frightened  her.     She  de- 
sired to  have  thirteen  nights,  under  the  reasonable  apprehen- 
sion that,  as  in  Ireland,  overanxiety  might  at  first  mar  her  ef- 
forts ;  and  this  was  agreed  to.     She  demanded  twelve  pounds 
a  week,  to  which  they  demurred,  that  being  the  highest  sum 
then  given  to  Miss  Wheeler,  Mrs.  BilHngton's  Dublin  rival, 
who  was  then  at  Covent  Garden,  and  whose  reputation  was 
established.     The  comparison   irritated  Mrs.  Billington,  and 
she  was  about  to  decline  farther  negotiations,  but  prudently 
changed  her  mind ;  and  her  name  was  announced  as  "  Mrs. 
Billington,  late  Miss  Weichsel."     It  happened  to  attract  the 
attention  of  the  king,  who  commanded  her  appearance  two 
days  sooner  than  it  had  been  advertised.     This  circumstance, 
so  highly  flattering,  encouraged  the  trembling  debutante,  who 
resolved  to  stake  every  thing  on  her  present  chance,  and  to 
quit  the  stage  if  .she  failed. 

Nature  and  study  had  both  combined  to  make  Mrs.  Billing- 
ton ready  to  profit  by  those  "  lucky  chances,"  of  which  people 
talk  so  much,  and  which  never  avail  grumblers  and  idlers ; 
and  she  labored  day  and  night  to  insure  her  success.  The 
compass  of  her  voice — a  pure  soprano,  more  sweet  than  pow- 


j      Sb 

L_of 


( 


ELIZABETH   BILLINGTON.  IST 

erful — was  of  extraordinary  extent  in  its  upper  notes,  from  A 
to  A  in  alt ;  but  the  lower  part  was  very  limited.  Of  thissbe 
was  aware,  and  in  a  bravura  she  would  often  substitute  one 
octave  for  another,  a  license  which  passed  unnoticed  by  the 
undiscriminating  multitude,  while  it  was  easily  excused  by  cul- 
tivated ears,  being,  as  one  connoisseur  remarked,  "  Like  the 
wild  luxuriance  of  poetical  imagery,  which,  though  against  the 
cold  rules  of  the  critic,  constitutes  the  true  value  of  poetry." 
She  had  not  the  full  tones  of  Banti,  but  rather  resembled  those 
of  Allegranti,  whom  she  closely  imitated.  Her  voice,  in  its 
very  high  tones,  was  something  of  the  quality  of  a  flute  or 
flageolet,  or  resembled  a  commixture  of  the  finest  sounds  of 
the  flute  and  violin,  if  such  could  be  imagined.  It  was  then 
"  wild  and  wandering,"  but  of  singular  sweetness.  "  Its  agil- 
ity," says  Mount  Edgecumbe, "  was  very  great,  and  every  thing 
she  saner  was  executed  in  the  neatest  manner  and  with  the  ut- 
■'  most  precision.  Her  knowledge  of  music  enabled  her  to  give 
great  variety  to  her^embellishments,  which,  as  her  taste  "was 
always  good,  were  always  judicious."  In  her  cadenzas,  how- 
ever, she  was  obliged  to  trust  to  her  memory,  for  she  never 
could  improvise  an  ornament.  Her  ear  was  so  delicate  that . 
she  could  instantly  detect  any  instrument  out  of  tune  in  a  large  I 
orchestra  ;*  and  her  intonation  was  perfect.  In  manner  she  ' 
was  "  peculiarly  bewitching,"  and  her  attitudes  generally  were 
good,  with  the  exception  of  an  ugly  habit  of  pressing  her  hands 
against  her  bosom  when  executing  difticult  passages.  Her  face 
and  figure  were  beautiful,  and  her  countenance  was  full  of 
good-humor,  though  not  susceptible  of  varied  expression ;  in- 
deed, as  an  actress,  she  had  comparatively  little  talent,  depend- 
ing chiefly  on  her  voice  for  producing  cftcct  on  the  stage. 

On  the  13th  of  February,  ITSO,  in  the  presence  of  the  king 
and  queen,  and  before  a  house  crowded  by  fashion,  Mrs,  Bil- 
lington  made  her  debut  at  Covent  Garden,  in  the  character  of 
Rosetta, in  Zove  in  a  ViUaffe,wh\ch  she  had  studied  so  assidu- 
ously with  her  friend  Bernard  in  Waterford.  Her  success  was 
beyond  her  most  sanguine  anticipations.  It  was  declared  that 
Rosetta  had  never  had  so  able  a  representative.  She  sang  in 
a  resplendently  brilliant  style ;  brilliancy  being  then  an  innova- 
tion in  English  singing,  for  the  once  celebrated  Catley  thought 

*  Her  sense  of  hearing  was  so  painfully  acute  that  she  was  often  seriously 
annoyed  by  tlie  sound  made  by  small  flics  in  a  room. 


158 


QUEENS   OP   SONG. 


one  cadenza  enough  in  each  verse,  and  Mrs.  Bannister  scarcely 
ever  used  any  ornament  whatever,  her  style  being  purely  that 
of  ballad-singing.     The  innovation  was  considered  dangerous, 
and  it  was  said  the  presence  of  royalty  alone  shielded  the 
young  vocalist  from  disapprobation.    The  pit  was  bewildered  ; 
the  gallery  gaped  in  sheer  amazement ;  but  the  musical  world 
unanimously  applauded,  and  the  effect  produced  in  the  orches- 
tra by  her  performance  was  magnetic,  the  leader  being  so  ab- 
sorbed during  one  of  her  beautiful  cadences  that  he  neglected , 
to  give  his  chord  at  its  close.     So  much  science,  taste,  flexi-  ■, 
bility,  birdlike  sweetness,  and  brilliancy  had  not  been  united  in  ' 
any  preceding  singer.     Miss  Wheeler  was  routed,  and  Mrs.  Bil- 
l^  lin.gton  assumed  undisputed  sovereignty  in  the  realm  of  song. 

At  the  expiration  of  the  twelve  nights  the  managers  waited 
on  the  successful  debutante  to  renew  the  engagement,  and 
questioned  her  cautiously  regarding  her  expectations.  More 
in  jest  than  earnest,  for  she  hardly  credited  her  triumph,  she 
demanded  a  thousand  pounds  and  a  benefit  for  the  remainder 
of  the  season ;  and,  to  her  utter  astonishment,  the  managers 
gladly  assented.  So  great  was  their  satisfaction,  indeed,  that 
at  the  end  of  the  season  they  voluntai'ily  gave  her  a  second 
night,  in  return  for  the  extraordinary  emoluments  they  had  de- 
rived from  her  performances. 

For  her  second  part  she  chose  Polly,  in  the  Beggar's  Opera^ 
and  in  music  of  a  simpler  character  proved  that  she  was  mis- 
tress of  every  style,  and  had  that  judgment  so  rare  in  a  singer 
— to  discern  the  true  limit  of  embellishment. 

She  appeared  at  the  Ancient  Concerts  immediately  after 
making  her  debut,  and  sang  "  Come  rather,  goddess,  sad  and 
holy,"  from  Handel's  L'' Allegro  ed  il  Penseroso,  and  "  Dove 
sei"  [from  JRodelinda),  now  better  known  as  "Holy,  holy  Lord." 
Mara,  who  was  then  in  the  zenith  of  her  fame,  was  seized  with 
a  furious  jealousy  of  the  rising  young  vocalist,  and  evidenced 
her  smothered  rage  by  disputing  with  her  for  places  and  pre^ 
eminence.  Mrs.  Billington,  being  very  good-tempered,  never 
resisted  the  haughty  German,  but  took  every  opportunity,  on 
the  contrary,  to  speak  of  her  in  flattering  terms. 

During  the  season,  although  her  theatrical  duties  w,ere  un- 
remitting, Mrs.  Billington  never  reitixe'cl  from  the  most  seduT 
lous  pursuit  of  the  general  knowledge  and  practice  of  her  art. 
She  labored  incessantly,  and  received  lessons  of  Mortellari,  an 


ELIZABETH   BILLINGTON. 


159 


\,Italian  master  of  celebrity  at  that  time  in  England,    The  piano- 
forte occupied  a  good  deal  of  her  attention;  and  so  exqiiisTte 
wanuT  toiich,  that~BaIo!Tron"  TTsed  ta^sity  of  her,  "  Sare,  she 
sings  wit  her  fingers."     Had  she  devoted  liersclf  to  the  piano 
instead  of  to  vocal  art,  she  would  have  been  the  most  celebrated 
.,     pianist  of  her  day ;  but  she  was  eagerly  intent  on  becoming  a 
]     finished  singer.     Often  would  she  go  from  the  theatre  to  her 
^    master,  never  tiring,  and  determined  on  leaving  nothing  to 
J_~[Trfiance,  the  god  of  fools.     So  much  were  the  public  struck  by 
""^^the  novelty  and  singular  beauty  of  her  vocal  graces  and  orna- 
ments, that  her  favorite  songs  were  published  as  nearly  as  pos- 
sible in  the  way  she  sang  them,  her  fioriture  being  exactly 
taken  down.     Her  husband  was  intoxicated  with  her  success, 
and  took  care  that  nothing  should  be  neglected  to  give  eifect 
to  her  performance.     One  night,  when  she  was  singing  the 
bravura  in  the  last  act  of  Artao^erxes,  her  husband,  who  was 
seated  in  the  orchestra,  considering  that  the  trumpeter  did  not 
accompany  her  with  sufiicient  force,  whispered  frequently  to 
him,  "  Louder !  louder !"     The  leader  of  the  band,  agreeing 
with  Billington,  repeated  the  same  command  so  often  that  at 
length  the  indignant  German,  flinging  down  his  trumpet  in  a 
rage,  turned  to  the  audience,  and  exclaimed,  in  a  tone  of  angry 
remonstrance,  "  It  be  vary  easy  to  say  '  Louder  and  louderer,' 
but,  by  gar !  vere  is  de  vind  ?" 

On  the  theatre  closing,  Mrs.  Billington  availed  herself  of  the 
,  interval  to  visit  Paris,  Billington  remaining  in  London  teach- 
f  ing  music,  and  living  splendidly  on  the  joint  earnings  of  him- 
self and  spouse.  She  also  seized  the  opportunity  of  obtaining 
instruction  from  Sacchini,  neglecting  no  means  of  fortifying 
and  enriching  her  natural  endowments  with  the  aid  of  science. 
From  him  she  quickly  caught  "  much  of  that  pointed  expres- 
sion, neatness  of  execution,  and  nameless  grace  by  Avhich  her 
performance  was  so  happily  distinguished :"  indeed,  she  may 
be  said  to  have  been  the  last  pupil  of  that  master,  for  he  died 
soon  after. 

Tlie  next  year  Kelly  appeared,  when  he  saw  Mrs.  Billington 
perform  Rosetta.  "  I  thought  her  an  angel  in  beauty,  and  the 
St,  Cecilia  of  song,"  says  he,  enthusiastically.  It  having  be- 
come "  the  fashion"  to  translate  popular  French  pieces  for  the 
English  stage,  an  operetta,  founded  on  Sterne's  story  of  "Ma- 
ria," was  produced  at  Covent  Garden,  April  24th,  this  year. 


160 


QUEENS   OF   SONG. 


/ 


under  the  title  of  Nina.,  with  the  original  music  by  Dalayrac, 
the  words  having  been  adapted  by  Dr.Walcot  (Peter  Pindar). 
Mrs.  Billington  performed  Nina  with  great  feeling  and  expres- 
sion, and  was  loudly  applauded.  She  performed  at  Covent 
Garden  for  several  seasons. 

In  the  summer  of  1789  she  went  to  Dublin,  when  she  sang 
with  Miss  George,  afterward  Lady  Oldmixon.  This  singer's 
voice  was  of  such  compass  that  it  reached  B  in  alto  perfectly 
clear  and  in  tune,  being  three  notes  higher  than  any  other 
singer.  "Mrs.  Billington,  who  was  engaged  on  very  high 
terms  for  a  limited  numb;er  of  nights,  made  her  first  appear- 
ance on  the  Dublin  stage  in  the  character  of  Polly  in  the 
Beggar'' s  Opera.,  surrounded  by  her  halo  of  poiDulai'ity.  She 
was  received  with  acclamations,  and  sang  her  songs  delight- 
fully ;  particularly  '  Cease  your  funning,'  which  was  tumultu- 
ously  encored.  Miss  George,  who  performed  the  j^art  of  Lucy 
(an  up-hill  singing  part),  perceiving  that  she  had  little  chance 
of  dividing  the  aj^plause  with  the  great  magnet  of  the  night, 
had  recourse  to  the  following  stratagem.  When  the  dialogue 
duet  in  the  second  act, '  Why,  how  now,  Madam  Flirt  ?'  came 
on,"  Mrs.  Billington  having  given  her  verse  with  exquisite 
SAveetness,  Miss  George,  "  setting  propriety  at  defiance,  sang 
the  whole  of  her  verse  an  octave  higher,  her  tones  having  the 
effect  of  the  high  notes  of  a  sweet  and  brilliant  flute.  The 
audience,  taken  by  surprise,  bestowed  on  her  such  loud  ap- 
plause as  almost  shook  the  walls  of  the  theatre,  and  a  unani- 
mous encore  was  the  result." 

Many  persons  having  said  that  it  was  only  in  bravura-sing- 
ing that  she  was  a  proficient,  Mrs.  Billington  selected  for  her 
benefit  on  the  19th  of  February,  1790,  the  musical  j^iece  of  the 
Flitch  of  Bacon.,  the  first  opera  composed  by  Shield.  As 
Eliza,  she  sang  with  touching  eifect  the  simj^le  and  jjlaintive 
melodies  in  the  most  chaste  and  beautiful  style,  thus  silencing 
those  who  had  limited  the  range  of  her  talents. 

Haydn  gave  this  opinion  on  her  in  his  Diary  in  1791 :  "On 
the  10th  of  December  I  went  to  see  the  opera  of  The  Wood- 
man (by  Shield).  It  was  on  the  day  when  the  provoking 
memoir  of  Mrs.  Billington  was  published.  She  sang  rather 
timidly,  but  yet  well.  She  is  a  great  genius."  The  tenor  was 
Incledon.  "The  common  people  in  the  gallery  are  very 
troublesome  in  every  theatre,  and  take  lead  in  ujjroar.    The 


ELIZABETU   BILLIXGTON.  IGl 

audience  iu  tlie  pit  and  boxes  have  often  to  clap  a  long  time 
before  they  can  get  a  fine  part  repeated.  It  was  so  this  even- 
ing with  the  beautiful  duet  in  the  third  act :  nearly  a  quarter 
of  an  hour  was  spent  in  contention,  but  at  length  the  pit  and 
boxes  gained  the  victory,  and  the  duet  was  repeated.  The 
two  actors  stood  anxiously  on  the  stage  all  the  while." 

The  great  composer  paid  her  one  of  the  prettiest  compli- 
ments she  ever  received.     Reynolds  was  painting  her  portrait    : 
in  the  character  of  St.  Cecilia,  and  one  day  Ilaydn  called  just 
as  it  was  being  finished.     Haydn   contemplated  the  picture  \ 
very  attentively,  then  said  suddenly,  "  But  you  have  made  a    \ 
great   mistake."     The   painter    started   up   aghast — "How!      \ 
What  ?"     "  Why,"  said  Haydn,  "  you  have  represented  Mrs. 
Billington  listening  to  the  angels ;  you  should  have  made  the 
angels  listening  to  her !"     Mrs.  Billington  blushed  with  pleas- 
ure.    "  Oh,  you  dear  man  ?"  cried  she,  throwing  her   arms 
round  his  neck  and  kissing  him. 

Early  in  1794  she  quitted  England,  having  resolved  to 
abandon  the  stage,  and  went  with  her  husband  and  brother 
Charles,  the  violinist,  on  a  Continental  tour.  Charles's  excel- 
lent taste,  and  the  discrimination  of  his  style  of  accompani- 
ment, were  said  to  have  contributed  not  a  little  to  set  off  Mrs. 
Billington's  talents  to  the  best  advantage.  Intending  to  travel 
incognito,  they  declined  the  letters  of  introduction  offered  by 
friends ;  but  two  days  after  they  reached  Naples  a  valet-de- 
place  betrayed  Mrs.  Billington's  name  to  Lady  Hamilton,  who 
immediately  called  on  the  great  English  singer,  and  insisted 
on  presenting  her  to  the  queen.  She  was  then  persuaded  to 
perform  in  private,  accompanied  by  Mr.  Weichsel,  before  the 
king  and  queen  at  Caserta,  their  country  residence ;  and  so 
gratified  were  their  majesties  by  her  performance  that  they  re- 
quested her  to  appear  at  the  San  Carlo,  then  looked  on  as  the 
finest  operatic  establishment  in  the  world.  It  is  difficult  to 
refuse  royal  requests;  and  accordingly,  in  May,  1794,  she 
made  her  debut  before  the  Xeapolitans  iu  Inez  di  Castro, 
which  had  been  specially  set  for  her  by  Francis  Bianchi.  Her 
success  was  complete. 

To  Inez  di  Castro  succeeded  the  Bidone  of  Paisiello,  the 
Ero  e  Leandro  of  Paer,  and  the  Deborah  e  Siscra  (an  oratorio, 
or  rather  sacred  drama)  of  Gnglielmi.     In  the  latter  Mrs.  Bil- 
lington was  supported  by  Davide,  the  most  celebrated  tenor 
11 


162  QUEENS    OP   SONG. 

of  Italy,  who  had  a  pretty  good  opinion  of  his  own  abilities. 
Speaking  one  day  of  Braham,  he  declared  that  there  were 
only  two  real  singers  in  the  Avorld — himself  aud  "the  En- 
glishman." 

It  became  the  vogue  to  patronize  the  beautiful  English 
donna,  from  national  pride  as  Avell  as  from  personal  admira- 
tion. The  royal  example  was  followed  by  Lady  Templeton, 
Lady  Palmerston,  Lady  Gertrude  Villiers,  Lady  Grandison, 
and  all  the  English  aud  Irish  nobility  then  resident  in  Na^Dles 
who  either  affected  or  possessed  musical  taste. 

She  went  in  June,  1796,  to  Bologna,  w^here  she  found  her- 
self unexpectedly  singing  to  an  audience  consisting  of  French 
officers  and  soldiers,  whom  the  rapid  victories  of  Napoleon 
had  led  in  less  than  two  months  across  the  whole  of  Northern 
Italy  from  the  Varennes  to  the  Adige.  Bonaparte  himself 
arrived  in  Bologna  on  the  19th  of  June,  and  learning  that  Mrs. 
Billington  had  an  engagement  at  Milan,  a  city  already  occu- 
pied by  his  troops,  he  assured  her  not  only  of  perfect  security, 
but  that  Madame  Bonaparte  would  pay  her  every  attention  in 
her  power.  During  her  engagement  at  the  Pergola,  therefore, 
Mrs.  Billington  was  a  frequent  guest  at  the  table  and  private 
parties  of  Jose])hine.  From  Milan  she  proceeded  to  Venice, 
where  she  was  engaged  to  sing  during  the  Carnival  of  1V96. 
Nasolini,  a  young  composer  of  great  promise,  wrote  Semi- 
ramide  for  her  debut.  She  sang  only  one  night,  however,  be- 
ing suddenly  seized  by  severe  illness,  which  confined  her  for 
six  months  to  her  bed.  To  the  honor  of  the  impresario  be  it 
said,  that  he  generously  brought  her  the  whole  of  her  salary, 
which  she  recompensed  by  singing  without  any  farther  re- 
muneration during  the  season  of  the  Ascension,  on  the  occa- 
sion when  the  annual  fair  drew  immense  numbers  of  strangers 
to  Venice.  On  her  recovery  the  theatre  was  illuminated  for 
three  nights,  and  the  corps  diplomatique  presented  her  with  a 
jewel  of  great  price  and  beauty.  On  going  from  Venice  to 
Rome,  she  was  earnestly  requested  to  give  a  concert  in  the 
Eternal  City.  She  at  first  declined,  but  the  society  of  Cava- 
lieri  undertook  the  arrangements,  and  she  and  her  brother 
Charles  performed  to  a  crowded  audience.  She  returned  to 
Naples  at  the  close  of  this  year;  and  as  about  this  time  an 
,  eruption  of  Mount  Vesuvius  took  place,  the  superstitious  big- 
otry of  the  Neapolitans  attributed  the  visitation  to  the  per- 


ELIZABETH   BILLINGTOIf.  163 

mission  granted  to  the  heretic  Englishman  to  perform  at  the 
San  Carlo.  Serious  apprehensions  were  entertained  by  Mrs. 
Billington's  friends  for  her  safety ;  but  her  talents  and  popu- 
larity triumphed,  and  she  continued  to  appear. 

Her  engagement  was  terminated  in  a  most  melancholy  man- 
ner. She  and  her  husband  were  dining  one  evening  with  the 
Bishop  of  Winchester  (North),  who  was  then  staying  at  Na- 
ples. After  dinner,  Mr.  Billington  went  up  stairs  to  fetch  a 
cloak  for  his  wife  to  go  to  the  Opera  ;  w^hile  coming  back,  he 
suddenly  fell  dead  in  the  arms  of  his  friend  Bianchi.  The  con- 
sternation which  his  mysterious  death  created  may  readily  be 
imagined.  Many  persons  shook  their  heads,  and  wdiispered 
that  he  had  died  from  poison  or  th^  stiletto.  Mrs.  Billington 
having  been  the  object  of  the  devoted  attentions  of  all  the 
young  nobles  of  Naples,  horrible  stories  were  industriously 
circulated.  It  is  saicl  that  they  feared  to  tell  Mrs.  Billington, 
and  that  she  sang  at  the  theatre  that  night ;  but  such  an  asser- 
tion is  scarcely  to  be  credited.  The  Queen  of  Naples  inter- 
fered to  prevent  her  reappearing  until  she  had  completely  re- 
covered the  shock. 

A  servant  of  the  public  has  not  much  time  to  devote  to 
grief;  and  there  were  only  too  many  reasons  for  supposing 
that  Elizabeth  Billington  did  not  particularly  regret  the  hus- 

^  band  with  whom  she  had  eloped  in  her  girlish  years.  Having, 
"by  the  irruption  of  the  French  array,  lost  twenty  thousand 
sequins  which  she  had  placed  in  the  Bank  of  Venice,  she  was 
glad  to  take  an  engagement  from  the  proprietors  of  La  Scala, 
and  left  Na^^les  to  fulfill  it. 

She  had  not  been  long  at  jMilan  when  she  became  acquaint- 
ed Avith  a  Frenchman,  the  sou  of  a  banker  of  Lyons,  and  cm- 
ployed  in  the  commissariat  department ;  he  was  named  Feli- 
can,  Felissant,  Fleissont,  Felisson,  Felissent,  Felissini,  Florrc- 
sent,  or  Felipent,  for  thus  variously  has  the  name  been  spelt. 
He  was  a  remarkably  handsome  man,  in  the  prime  of  life,  of 
fine  athletic  form,  military  appearance,  and  seemingly  every 
thing  that  could  be  desired  in  temper  and  disposition ;  and  he 
laid  strong  siege  to  the  heart  of  the  lovely  Englishwoman.  So 
successful  was  he  in  his  wooing,  that  the  beautiful  widow  de- 
clared she  Avas  "  now  in  love  for  the  first  time  in  her  life,"  and 
they  wei'b  married  in  1V99.     But  in  the  very  first  week  of  the 

"  lioneymiJou"" tM~dbTeitssumed  the  fierceness  of  the  hawk :" 


) 


164  QUEENS    OF   SONG. 

her  husband  treated  her  unmercifully,  and  if  she  dared  to  com- 
plain, "  plates,  dishes,  and  any  other  movables  were  thrown  at 
her."     Raised  from  a  state  of  poverty  to  one  of  comparative 
affluence,  the  ungrateful  Felican  now  bedecked  himself  in  an 
I      elegant  French  uniform,  and  ordered  his  wife  to  tell  every 
I     body  that  she  had  bought  him  a  commission ;  but  for  thus  as- 
/      suming  a  character  to  which  he  was  not  entitled,  and  for  other 
/      fourheries  he  had  committed,  of  which  his  cruel  usage  of  his 
/       bride  was  not  the  least,  he  was  publicly  flogged,  by  order  of 
I        General  Serrurier — a  punishment  which,  while  it  cut  his  wife 
I        to  the  soul,  and  humbled  her  to  the  dust,  had  not  the  slightest 
\^  effect  on  his  hardened  nature. 
/"   The  next  year  Braham,"  who  had  come  to  Italy  chiefly  for 
/      study,  was  singing  during  the  Carnival  at  the  Scala,  and  was 
/        announced  to  appear  with  Mrs.  Billington  in  an  opera  by  Na- 
I         solini,  II  Trionfo  di  Claria.    The  applause  which  he  received 
at  rehearsal  enraged  Felican,  who  intrigued  till  he  persuaded 
the  leader  to  omit  the  grand  aria  for  the  tenor  voice,  in  which 
Braham's  powers  were  advantageously  displayed.    This  piece 
of  spite  and  jealousy  being  noised  about,  the  public  openly  tes- 
tified their  displeasure,  and  the  next  day  it  was  announced  by 
Gherardi,  the  manager,  in  the  bills,  that  Braham's  scena  should 
be  performed,  and,  on  the  second  night  of  the  opera,  it  was  re- 
ceived with  tumultuous  applause.     Braham,  justly  indignant, 
avenged  himself  in  an  ingenious  manner,  but  his  wrath  de- 
scended on  an  innocent  head.     Mrs.  Billington's  embellish- 
ments were  always  elaborately  studied,  and,  when  once  fixed 
on,  seldom  changed ;  the  angry  tenor,  knowing  this,  caught 
her  roulades,  and  on  the  first  opportunity,  his  air  coming  first, 
he  coolly  appropriated  all  her  fioriture.    Poor  Mrs.  Billington 
listened  in  dismay  at  the  wings.     She  could  not  improvise  or- 
1         naments  and  graces,  and  when  she  came  on,  the  unusual  mea- 
greness  of  her  style  astonished  the  audience.     She  refused,  in 
the  next  opera,  to  sing  a  duet  with  Braham ;  but,  as  she  was 
good-natured,  she  forgave  Braham,  and  they  always  remained 
I         excellent  friends. 

ISTotwithstanding  Felican's   abominable  behavior,  and  the 

public  disgrace  he  had  undergone,  the  infatuated  singer  still 

V        loved  her  husband,  and  they  went  together  to  Treviso,  in  the 

Venetian  States,  where  she  had  purchased  a  country  house. 

\       But  no  sooner  were  they  settled  in  it  than  the  ruftian  resumed 


J 


ELIZABETH   BILLINGTOX.  165 

his  infamous  conduct :  he  insulted  and  beat  her  continually, 
and,  worst  of  all,  compelled  her  to  wear  the  coarsest  garments, 
and  threatened  to  kill  her  if  she  did  not  surrender  to  him  her 
jewels,  which  he  thus  wrenched  from  her.  Driven  to  despair, 
she  at  last  ran  away,  joined  her  faithful  brother  Charles  at 
Venice,  and  set  off  with  him,  in  1801,  for  England. 

On  reaching  London  she  was  engaged  at  once :  in  fact,  there 
was  a  pitched  battle  between  Harris  and  Sheridan  as  to  which 
should  have  her.  She  gave  the  preference  to  her  old  friend 
Harris,  and  signed  a  contract  with  him,  the  terms  being  dOOO 
guineas  to  perform  from  October  to  April,  three  times  a  week, 
a  free  benefit  being  insured  at  £500,  and  £500  insured  to  her 
brother  for  leading  the  band  on  the  nights  she  sang.  Sheridan, 
however,  stoutly  persisted  that  he  had  first  oflfered  those  terms, 
and  the  dispute  was  ended  by  an  arbitration,  Avhen  it  was  de- 
cided that  she  should  perform  alternately  at  both  houses. 

Mrs.  Billington  appeared  at  Covent  Garden  the  3d  of  Octo- 
ber, 1801,  in  the  opera  of  Artaxerxes,  so  much  admired  at  the 
period ;  in  it  Dr.  Arne  was  said  to  have  "  consolidated  the 
beautiful  melody  of  Hasse,  the  mellifluous  richness  of  Pergo- 
lese,  the  easy  flow  of  Piccini,  and  the  finished  cantabile  of  Sac- 
chini,  with  his  own  pure  and  native  simplicity."     Thunders  of 
applause  greeted  her  entrance  on  the  scene,  and  she  responded 
"  after  the  French  manner,"  by  courtesying  respectfully  to  the 
three  sides  of  the  house.     At  the  very  commencement  of  her 
perforniance  all  the  expectations  of  her  audience  were  satisfied. 
In  the  duet  of  "Fair  Aurora,"  which  she  sang  with  Incledon, 
she  glided  through  the  chromatic  passage  which  closes  the 
first  and  second  strain  Avith  a  sweetness  of  eflfect  which  no  one 
but  herself  could  produce.     In  the  air,  "  If  o'er  the  cruel  tyrant 
Love,"  she  was  exquisite,  displaying  in  almost  every  bar  an 
irreproachable  taste.     Her  ornaments,  though  abundant,  were 
chaste,  and  the  additional  notes,  in  which  she  soared  with  ease 
to  D  in  alt,  were  as  ingenious  and  tasteful  as  they  were  forci- 
bly expressed.     In  sliort,  nothing  remained  to  crown  the  tri- 
umpli  of  the  evening  but  the  execution  of  the  familiar  bravura 
which  precedes  the  finale,  "The  soldier  tired  of  war's  alarms," 
in  Avhich  she  attained  the  acme  of  her  art,  and  was  vehemently 
encored.     Incledon  was  an  excellent  Arbaces;  and  Mrs.  At- 
kins, as  far  as  her  limited  powers  would  allow,  sang  Semira's 
airs  with  sweetness  and  expression. 


/ 


166  QUEENS   Oi'  SONG. 

At  the  end  of  the  first  act,  as  the  bills  of  the  day  announced, 
a  bi-avura  song,  "  Lost  in  anxious  doubts,"  composed  by  Bi- 
anchi,  was  sung  by  Mrs.  Billington,  Avith  an  obbligato  accom- 
paniment by  Mr.  Weichsel.  This  piece  displayed  the  Avonder- 
ful  extent  of  her  vocal  powers,  and  the  facility  with  which  she 
executed  it  enraptured  and  astonished  the  audience. 

She  had  much  improved,  every  one  remarked,  since  she  was 
last  in  England :  she  was  less  redundant  in  ornament,  and  had 
acquired  a  more  distinct  articulation.  Lord  Mount  Edgecumbe 
says  she  resembled  Mara  so  much  that  the  same  observations 
would  apply  to  both  equally  well.  ".Both  were  excelleut  mu- 
sicians, thoroughly  skilled  in  their  profession  ;  both  had  voices 
-of  uncommon  sweetness  and  agility,  particularly  suited  to  the 
bravura  style,  and  executed  to  perfection  and  with  good  taste 
every  thing  they  sang.  But  neither  were  Italian,  and  conse- 
quently both  were  deficient  in  recitative ;  neither  had  much 
feeling,  both  were  deficient  in  theatrical  talents,  and  they  were 
absolutely  null  as  actresses,  therefore  they  were  more  calcu- 
lated to  give  pleasure  in  the  concert-room  than  on  the  stage." 
It  was  noticed  that  her  pronunciation  of  the  EnoUsli  laniruaore 
was  not  quite  free  from  impurities,  arising  principally  from  the 
introduction  of  vowels  before  consonants,  a  habit  probably  ac- 
quired from  the  Italian  custom.  "Her  whole  style  of  elocu- 
tion," observes  one  writer,  "  may  be  described  as  sweet  and 
persuasive  rather  than  powerful  and  commanding.  It  natural- 
ly assumed  the  character  of  her  mind  and  voice."  She  was 
considered  the  most  accomplished  singer  that  had  ever  been 
born  in  England. 

On  Friday,  November  13,  she  made  her  appearance  in  an- 
other part — that  of  Clara,  in  Sheridan's  popular  opera  The 
Duenna.  In  this  character  she  was  amiable  and  captivating, 
and  her  dress  Avas  exquisitely  tasteful.  lucledon  was  the 
Carlos ;  and  nothing  could  be  more  excellent  than  Munden's 
Don  Jerome. 

She  played  Mandane  for  many  nights  at  both  theatres.  One 
night  she  came  to  Drury  Lane  so  hoarse  as  to  render  it  a  ques- 
tion whether  she  could  possibly  appear.  As  she  was  going 
off  to  dress  in  great  perplexity,  her  maid  came  to  tell  her  that 
the  key  of  her  jewel-box  Avas  missing,  inquiring  if  she  had  it 
with  her.  "What  can  I  have  done  Avith  it?"  exclaimed  the 
vexed  vocalist;  "I  suppose  I  must  haA^e  SAA'allowed  it  Avithout 


ELIZABETH   BILLINGTOJf.  107 

knowing."  "  And  a  lucky  thing  too,"  said  Wewitzer,  always 
watching  for  an  opportunity  of  launching  a  joke ;  "  it  may 
serve  to  open  your  chest." 

On  Thursday,  October  15,  as  she  was  acting  Mandane  at 
Covent  Garden,  she  suddenly  fainted  on  the  stage  at  the  end 
of  the  second  act,  and  a  succession  of  the  most  alarming  fits 
rendered  it  impossible  for  her  to  go  on  again.  The  cause  of 
this  distressinsr  accident  was  sincrular.  The  dav  before  she 
had  sent  for  Mr.  Ileaviside,  the  surgeon,  to  look  at  her  arm, 
which  was  much  inflamed,  and  gave  her  acute  pain  ;  and  a  few 
days  afterward  he  extracted  an  entire  needle  from  below  the 
right  shoulder.  The  arm  had  assumed  a  black  appearance, 
and  the  friendly  surgeon  strongly  dissuaded  her  from  perform- 
ing; but  slie  could  not  bear  to  disappoint  the  public.  Happi- 
ly, no  evil  results  followed  the  accident,  and  in  a  fortnight  she 
was  well.  She  took  a  short  holiday  to  recruit  her  strength 
and  her  nerves,  and  on  the  4th  of  November  sang  in  the  Du- 
enna at  both  houses.  Till  then,  that  opera  had  never  been 
acted  at  Sheridan's  own  theatre.  In  the  part  of  Clara,  it 
might  have  been  supposed  that  "Adieu,  thou  dreary  j^ile," 
was  difficult  enough  for  the  most  exigent  admirers  of  florid 
singing,  but  Mrs.  Billington  introduced  a  piece  by  Nasolini 
"  which  rendered  her  hearers  breathless  with  astonishment." 
Quick,  the  original  Mendoza,  appeared  with  her. 

By  December  the  public  had  grown  ratlier  tired  of  Man- 
dane, and  the  house  Avas  not  Avell  attended.  Mrs.  Billington 
therefore  appeared,  January  5, 1802,  in  a  third  character— that 
of  Rosetta,  a  part  which  afforded  her  talents  a  greater  scope 
than  either  Mandane  or  Chira.  She  was  delightful;  acted 
with  a  charming  ease  and  comic  humor,  and  sang  the  airs  with 
spirit  and  perfect  skilh     Incledon  played  Young  Meadows. 

The  crowds,  which  had  diminished,  now  returned.  On  the 
first  night  the  house  had  never  been  so  crammed,  the  stage 
being  so  covered  with  ladies  and  gentlemen  that  the  perform- 
ers had  scarcely  room  to  move.  Among  the  notabilities  who 
crowded  the  house  one  night  when  she  was  playing  Avas  Je- 
kyl,  the  Avitty  barrister,  accompanied  by  a  friend  from  the  coun- 
try. When  the  curtain  rose  and  "discovered"  Rosetta  and 
Lucinda  in  the  garden,  the  ovation  was  so  tumultuous  that 
Mrs.  Billington  came  forward  to  courtesy  in  acknowledgment. 
The  country  gentleman,  fixing  his  eyes  on  the  prima  donna, 


I 


168  QUEENS   OF   SONG. 

who  had  jjrodigiously  increased  in  Tbulk  during  her  residence 
abroad,  asked,  "  Is  that  Rosetta  ?"  "  No,  sir,"  replied  Jeky], 
"it  is  not  Rosetta,  it  is  Grand  Cairo !" 

On  the  30th  of  April,  a  new  comic  entertainment  called 
Algonah,  the  drama  by  Cobb,  the  music  by  Kelly,  was  pro- 
duced at  Drury  Lane,  for  the  benefit  of  Mrs.  Billiugton,  the 
chief  parts  being  performed  by  Mrs.  Billington,  Mrs.  Crouch, 
and  Mrs.  Caulfield.  The  performance  was  altogether  very 
successful,  and  the  heroine  of  the  evening  was  surrounded  by 
flatterers  ofliering  their  congratulations  on  her  triumph. 

On  returning  home  a  painful  surprise  awaited  her.  ^Com- 
fortably lolling  on  one  of  the  sofas  in  her  drawing-room  she 
found — her  husband !     Desperately  enamored  of  her  English 
guineas,  he  vowed  he  could  no  longer  bear  to  be  separated 
from  his  "  beloved  Bettina."     Overcome  with  terror,  the  only 
course  that  remained  to  the  triumphant  Queen  of  Song,  the 
idol  of  the  public,  was  to  bribe  her  legal  lord  and  master  to     , 
depart.     "  I  never  saw  any  woman  so  much  in  awe  of  man  as     \ 
poor  Mrs.  Billington  was  of  him  whom  she  had  married  for      \ 
love,"  said  Kelly,  who  hated  him  cordially,  and  refused  to  know      f 
him.     The  scoundrel  FeHcan  accepted  the  bribe,  and  left  his     /' 
wife  in  peace  for  a  time.  -/ 

Mrs.  Billington  appeared  with  Madame  Mara  on  the  3d  of, 
June,  1802,  the  fai'ewell  night  of  that  most  distinguished  sing- 
er. They  sang  a  duet  together,  composed  to  display  their 
mutual  accomplishments ;  the  contest  excited  both  to  the  ut- 
most pitch  of  their  skill,  and  every  one  who  heard  them  was 
astonished. 

Having  concluded  her  splendid  career  at  the  English  thea- 
tre, Mrs.  Billington  entered  into  an  engagement  with  the  pro- 
prietors of  the  Italian  Opera.  Her  brother  was  also  engaged 
as  leader,  to  the  exclusion  of  Salomon.  She  appeared  on  the 
4th  of  December  in  Nasolini's  serious  opera  Merope. 

She  was  now  wonderfully  popular.  Engagements  multi- 
plied ;  for  no  fashionable  concert  or  musical  entertainment 
was  complete  without  her.  Her  income  averaged  fourteen 
thousand  pounds  a  year;  for  she  made  large  acquisitions  in 
the  shape  of  presents,  allowances,  benefits,  etc. :  at  one  period 
her  property  did  not  fall  far  short  of  sixty -five  thousand 
pounds.  Of  her  earnings  she  was  not  at  all  miserly.  She 
took  care  to  place  her  old  father  in  comfortable  circumstances 


ELIZABETH   BILLINGTON. 


169 


(her  mother  had  died  young) ;  and,  being  childless  —  though 
she  had  had  one  child  by  Billington,  Avhich  had  died  in  infan- 
cy— she  adopted  two  little  girls.  The  eldest  of  these  children, 
a  girl  of  nine  years  old,  was  sent  to  Brussels,  to  be  educated 
at  a  convent  there ;  the  other,  the  daughter  of  a  friend  named 
Madocks,  was  brought  to  her  when  only  seven  days  old,  and 
reared  with  great  care  at  a  respectable  boarding-school.  She 
maintained  a  free  hospitality  at  her  charming  villa  at  Ham- 
mersmith ;  her  establishment  was  conducted  on  a  scale  of 
princely  taste  and  magnificence,  and  she  received  royal,  no- 
ble, and  gentle  visitors,  ladies  of  title  and  high  connections  be- 
ing pleased  to  attend  her  concerts  and  accept  invitations  to 
her  splendid  entertainments.  Her  early  poverty,  however, 
had  impressed  on  her  mind  the  neccssItyl5f1ecoTOM}VincT"^e 

^jLOUlrived  to  live  rather  under  than  above  her  income.  Her 
hospitality  and  the  habit  of  accommodating  'TferseTf~tcr  her 
Sfucsts  once  led  her  into  an  awkward  embarrassment.  She 
had  frequently  received  at  her  table  a  barrister  of  eminence, 
with  whom  she  had  several  times  talked  on  legal  subjects, 
asking  his  opinion,  from  mere  curiosity,  on  various  points  of 
law ;  and  he,  finding  his  affairs  much  deranged,  had  the  impu- 
dence to  send  in  a  bill  of  costs  to  her,  amounting  to  three 
hundred  pounds,  for  consultations !  This  she  showed  to  her 
solicitor,  who  informed  her  that,  though  the  barrister  could 
not  legally  enforce  the  claim,  yet  he  would  advise  her,  the  man 
being  in  great  distress,  to  compromise  the  matter  by  making 
him ji  present  of  a  hundred  pounds. 

/"^s  a  hostess  Mrs. Billington  was  irresistibly  charming;  but 
/  at  this  period,  although  her  manners  were  bewitching,  she 
was  beginninsT  to  become  somewhat  coarse  and  masculine,  the 
outlines  of  her  once  sylph-like  figure  being  lost  in  her  embon- 
point. The  pencil  of  Sir  Joshua  has  depicted  her  as  St.  Ce- 
cilia, by  way  of  companion  to  his  portrait  of  Mrs.  Siddous  as 
the  Tragic  Muse ;  and  of  this  picture  (which  drew  forth 
Haydn's  famous  compliment),  Ward,  the  engraver,  executed  a 
very  faithful  and  spirited  reproduction. 

In  public  she  was  always  good-humored  and  obliging,  and 
would  often  put  aside  difficulties  or  annoyances  with  easy 
good-nature.  Once  she  had  to  sing  at  a  concert  with  a  Miss 
Parke,  when  this  young  lady,  jealous  of  the  supremacy  of  the 
great  cantatrice,  threatened  to  fling  \;p  her  engagement  if  her 

H 


/ 


to 


170  QUEENS    or   SONG. 

I  name  were  printed  in  smaller  type  tliau  that  of  Mrs.  Billing- 
ton.  The  conductor  nervously  informed  his  prima  donna  of 
this  threat,  and  asked  her  what  he  should  do.  Mrs.  Billing- 
ton  laughed  and  said,  "  Print  my  name  in  the  smallest  letters 
employed  in  the  bill,"  Avhich  was  done ;  "  and  much  Miss 
Parke  gained  by  her  corpulent  type,"  says  the  narrator  of  the 
circumstance, 

A  splendid  combination  of  talent  was  offered  to  the  fre- 
quenters of  the  Opera  House  in  1804,  when  Mrs.  Billington 
and  Madame  Grassini,  who  had  just  appeared,  performed  to- 
gether in  II  Hatto  di  Proserpina,  composed  expressly  by 
Winter  for  these  two  beautiful  women  and  exquisite  vocalists. 
The  charming  duet,  sung  by  them,  "  Vaghe  colli,"  was  always 
enthusiastically  encored ;  a  beautiful  trio,  also,  sung  by  them, 
accompanied  by  Viganoni — the  cavatina  "  Che  faro  senza  la 
madre  ?"  was  rapturously  applauded.  The  entire  opera  was 
admired,  indeed,  and  considered  Winter's  chef-d'oeuvre,  al- 
tliouo;h  he  had  written  it  in  three  weeks. 

In  January,  1805,  Winter  produced  a  new  serious  opera  en- 
titled UAmore  Fraterno,  the  music  of  which  was  very  beauti- 
ful. Mrs.  Billington  was  the  heroine,  and  sang  as  only  she 
could  sing,  ably  supported  by  the  two  tenor  singers,  Viganoni 
and  Braham.  She  also  appeared  in  Nasolini's  opera  oi  Ferdi- 
nand in  Jlexico  ;  and  in  May,  Winter  composed  for  her  the 
opera  of  Calypso,  the  music  of  which  she  sang  to  perfection, 
and  "looked  the  character  divinely."  Lord  Mount  Edge- 
cumbe  gave  it  as  his  opinion  that  the  operas  in  which  Mrs. 
Billington  excelled  were  La  Clemenza  di  Scipio7ie,  composed 
by  John  Christian  Bach,  and  revived  for  her ;  Paisiello's  Fl- 
frida;  Armida,  Castore  e  Polluce,  and  others  by  Winter; 
and  Mozart's  Cleinenza  di  Tito. 

She  was  still  admired,  and  overflowing  houses  testified  to 
her  popularity ;  but,  finding  her  health  beginning  to  fail,  Mrs. 
Billington  wisely  resolved  to  quit  the  stage.  For  her  benefit, 
which  took  place  March  30th,  1806,  she  selected  Mozart's 
Clemenza  di  Tito,  which  had  never  been  heard  in  this  country, 
thus  being  the  first  to  introduce  the  immortal  composer's 
music  into  England.  There  was  only  one  manuscript  score 
of  Clemenza  di  Tito  in  the  kingdom :  this  copy  was  in  the  ' 
possession  of  the  Prince  of  Wales,  who  kindly  sent  it  to  the 
Opera  House  for  the  use  of  Mi-s.  Billington.     The  band,  the 


'  ELIZABETH   BILLINGTON.  171 

singers,  and  cLorus  being  very  anxious  to  hear  the  contents 
/  of  so  precious  a  novelty  as  a  manuscript  opera  by  Mozart, 
Mrs.  Billington,  with  her  customary  good-nature,  sat  down  to 
the  piano-forte,  and  played  the  accompaniments  from  thW 
'  ,  score,  singing  the  principal  part — that  of  Yitellia.  In  this 
way  she  went  through  the  entile  work,  from  beginning  to 

■     /     end,  giving  Mozart's  expression  and  character  so  admirably, 
/     at  sight,  that  the  impromptu  audience  were  enraptured  not 

;  /      only  with  the  beauty  of  the  music,  but  the  wonderful  power 

'  \^  and  musical  skill  of  the  singer. 

'  The  performance  on  her  benefit  night  was  highly  successful, 
and  proved  that  it  was  not  from  any  lack  of  applause  that  she 
retired  from  the  stage.  "She  sang  with  uncommon  effect, 
and  seemed  anxious  to  repay  with  every  exertion  the  appro- 
bation and  attention  of  so  splendid  and  numerous  an  audi- 
ence." At  the  close  of  the  season  she  retired.  Almost  her 
last  appearance  was  on  a  performance  for  the  benefit  of  a 
charity  at  Whitehall  Chapel,  at  which  the  queen,  prince  re- 
gent, and  most  of  the  royal  family  were  present. 

After  Mrs.  Billington  had  relinquished  public  singing,  she 
was  asked  by  J.  B.  Cramer  to  appear  for  his  benefit.  She  re- 
plied, "  I  can  not  sing  for  you,  but  I  will  play  for  you,  if  you 
like."  Latterly  she  had  accompanied  herself,  in  her  bravura 
songs  on  the  Opera  stage,  in  a  style  which  was  equal  to  her 
vocal  performance.  In  1809  she  retired.  No  entreaties  were 
spared  by  the  noble  directors  of  the  Ancient  Concerts,  and  the 
managei'S  of  every  theatre  or  concert  at  which  she  had  assist- 
ed, to  induce  her  to  sing;  but  her  resolution  was  finally  taken. 
The  only  time  she  ever  appeared  after  this  was  on  tlie  3d  of 
May,  1811,  at  the  concert-room  of  the  King's  Theatre,  for  the 
benefit  of  her  brother.  She  sang  a  fine  composition  of  Cima- 
rosa's,  and  the  "  Soldier  tired,"  in  which  she  seemed  determ- 
ined to  leave  a  lasting  impression  of  her  extraordinary  powers 
on  her  hearers. 

After  a  separation  of  fifteen  years,  Mrs.  Billington  actually 
invited  her  husband  to  England  in  1817,  and  then  proceeded 
with  him  to  Italy,  accompanied  by  one  of  the  girls  whom  she 
had  adopted — Miss  Madocks,  to  whom  she  meant  to  bequeath 
her  large  fortune.  Ilcr  plate  and  valuable  ornaments  Avere 
transmitted  by  sea,  while  the  two  old,  but  newly-united  lovers 
crossed  at  Calais,  en  route  for  the   shores   of  the  Adriatic. 


^ 


172 


QUEENS    OF   SONG. 


After  revisiting  their  mansion  at  St.  Artien,  near  Venice,  it 
was  their  intention  to  go  to  Rome  and  Naples.    The  ill-fated 
wife  had  not  been  long  reunited  to  her  brutal  husband,  how-    \ 
ever,  before  he  renewed  his  brutality,  and  at  length  gave  her 
a  blow  that  laid  her  on  a  bed  of  sickness,  from  which  she  never     i 
rose  again.     She  was  taken  ill  August  18th,  1818,  and  died  oni 
the  25th  of  the  same  month. 

On  the  death  of  his  wife,  Felican,  possessed  with  the  idea 
that  Miss  Madocks  was  the  daughter  of  a  royal  duke  and  of 
Mrs.  Billington,  and  that  by  marrying  her  he  would  obtain  a 
handsome  fortune,  laid  a  plan  for  entrapping  her  into  accept- 
ing his  hand.  Fortunately,  his  vile  scheme  was  detected  by 
some  individual  in  England,  who,  through  the  agency  of  the 
physician  Aglietti,  obtained  the  poor  girl's  release  from  the 
convent  in  which  she  had  been  j)laced  by  Mrs.  Billington's 
caution,  and  caused  her  to  be  brought  over  to  this  country. 

Mrs.  Billington  had,  at  different  epochs,  amassed  three  dif- 
ferent fortunes.  One  was  spent  with  her  friends,  another  was 
seized  by  enemies,  and  the  third  was  left  partly  in  possession 
of,  and  the  remainder  claimed  by,  her  husband,  to  the  amount 
of  twenty  thousand  pounds. 

Napoleon  the  First  once  asked  whether  the  English  were 
not  proud  of  Mrs.  Billington.  ^ 


I 

i 


GIUSEPPA    GKASSINI.  l73 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

GIUSEPPA     GEASSINI. 

One  of  the  most  charming  and  popular  singers  at  La  Scala, 
in  the  Carnival  of  1794,  was  Giuseppa  Grassini.  She  was  horn 
in  1775,  at  Varese,  in  Lombardy,  where  her  father,  a  farmer, 
resided.  The  rare  beauty  of  her  voice  and  appearance  induced 
General  Belgioso  to  offer  to  defray  the  expenses  of  her  music- 
al education.  lie  gave  her  the  best  masters  to  be  found  in 
Milafi,  who  neglected  nothing  that  could  develop  the  natural 
abihties  of  their  pupil ;  but  Giuseppiua  was  a  wayward,  indo- 
lent little  beauty,  who  disliked  any  kind  of  study,  and  seemed 
resolved  to  leave  it  entirely  to  chance  whether  she  should  be- 
come a  great  vocahst  or  not.  Nevertheless,  her  progress  in 
the  good  and  "  large"  manner  of  the  old  school  was  rapid ;  for 
she  could  sing  to  perfection,  but  could  not  give  the  slightest 
reason  for  any  thing  she  did. 

She  appeared  for  the  first  time  at  La  Scala  during  the  Car- 
nival of  1794,  singing  with  Marchesi  and  Lazzariui  in  the  Ar- 
taserse  of  Zingarelli,  and  in  the  Demofoonte  of  Portogallo. 
The  advantages  she  derived  from  making  her  debut  with  the 
first  artistes  of  her  time — Marchesi  and  Crescentini — were  the 
means  of  perfecting  her  talent.  Never  was  debut  more  bril- 
liant ;  and  soon  the  principal  theatres  of  Italy  offered  her  en- 
gagements. In  the  Carnival  season  of  179G  she  appeared  at 
La  Scala  in  Apelle  e  CamjKtsjje,  by  Traetta,  and  Zingarelli's 
Giulietta  e  Borneo^  with  Crescentini  and  the  tenor  Adamo  Bl- 
anch i. 

Girolamo  Crescentini  Avas  the  last  of  the  fine  Italian  school 
which  produced  Senesino,  Farinelli,  and  others.  lie  was 
endowed  with  one  of  the  most  beautiful  voices  imaginable. 
"  Nothing  could  be  compared  to  the  suavity  of  his  accents," 
says  Fetis,  "  to  the  force  of  his  expression,  to  the  perfect  taste 
of  his  fioriture,  to  the  breadth  of  his  phrasing,  or  to  that  clus- 
ter of  splendid  qualities,  any  one  of  which,  cultivated  to  the 
same  degree  of  superiority,  would  have  sufficed  to  assure  to 


174  QUEENS    OF   SONG. 

the  possessor  tbe  first  rank  among  the  singers  of  the  day." 
He  had,  however,  the  most  inflated  idea  of  his  own  conse- 
quence; and  his  vanity  and  impertinence,  of  which  many 
amusing  stories  are  related,  were  utterly  ridiculous. 

In  1797,  Giuseppina  was  the  reigning  prima  donna  at  La 
Fenice,  where  she  took  the  part  of  Orazia  in  the  new  opera 
by  Ciraarosa,  in  Avhich  she  created  an  extraordinary  sensation. 
The  same  season  she  was  engaged  at  Naples  to  sing  at  the 
San  Carlo  during  the  fetes  in  honor  of  the  marriage  of  the 
hereditary  prince.  Surrounded  by  homage  and  flattery,  she 
was  now  the  acknowledged  Queen  of  Song. 

Grassini  was  an  exquisite  vocalist  in  spite  of  her  ignorance, 
and,  albeit  fickle  and  capricious,  a  most  beautiful  and  fascina- 
ting woman — luxurious,  prodigal,  and  generous,  though  heavy 
and  dull  in  conversation.  Her  voice  was  originally  a  sopT'ano, 
but  changed  to  a  deep  contralto ;  it  was  rich,  round,  and  full, 
though  of  limited  extent,  being  within  its  proper  compass  of 
about  one  octave  of  good  natural  notes.  Though  not  unfre- 
quently  a  little  husky  and  guttural,  it  was  of  delicious  quality, 
and  of  great  volume  and  power ;  but  if  she  attempted  to  go 
higher  than  its  small  range  of  notes  she  produced  only  a  shriek, 
"  quite  unnatural,  and  almost  painful  to  the  ear."  Her  style 
(exclusively  the  cantabile)  w^as  rich  and  finished ;  and  though 
she  had  not  much  execution,  what  she  did  was  elegant  and 
perfect ;  she  never  attempted  what  was  beyond  her  powers. 
Her  dramatic  instincts  were  always  true,  and  in  the  expression 
of  the  subdued  and  softer  passions  she  has  never  been  excelled. 
As  an  actress  she  had  many  advantages.  Her  figure  was  tall 
and  commanding,  and  her  carriage  and  attitudes  had  a  classic 
beauty  combined  with  a  grace  peculiarly  her  own.  Her  head 
was  noble,  her  features  Avere  symmetrical,  her  hair  and  eyes 
of  the  deepest  black,  and  her  entire  appearance  had  an  air  of 
singular  majesty. 

From  Naples  she  returned  (in  1800)  to  Milan.  After  the 
battle  of  Marengo  she  sang  in  a  concert  before  the  great  Na- 
poleon, who  was  so  fascinated  by  her  many  and  irresistible  at- 
tractions that  he  desired  to  be  introduced  to  her.  Las  Cases 
gives  a  sketch  of  this  interview  in  many  respects  irreconcilable 
with  the  real  circumstances  of  the  life  of  Grassini.  However, 
he  says,  she  reminded  the  mighty  conqueror  that  she  had  "made 
her  debut  precisely  during  the  early  achievements  of  the  gen- 


GIUSEPPA   GRASSIXI.  iVo 

eral  of  the  army  of  Italy.  '  I  was  then,'  said  she, '  in  the  full 
lustre  of  my  beauty  and  my  talent.  My  performance  in  the 
Virgins  of  the  Sun  was  the  topic  of  universal  conversation.  I 
fascinated  every  eye,  and  inflamed  every  heart.  The  young 
general  alone  was  insensible  to  my  charms;  and  yet  he  was 
the  only  object  of  my  wishes.  What  caprice — what  singular- 
ity !  When  I  possessed  some  value,  when  all  Italy  was  at  my 
feet,  and  I  heroicallv  disdained  its  admiration  for  a  single  i^lance 
from  you,  I  was  unable  to  obtain  it;  and  now  how  strange  an 
alteration.  You  condescend  to  notice  me  now,  when  I  am  not 
worth  the  trouble,  and  am  no  longer  worthy  of  you.' "  An  ex- 
traordinary speech  for  a  very  lovely  and  very  vain  woman  of 
twenty-five,  almost  at  the  outset  of  her  career.  Be  that  as  it 
may.  Napoleon  invited  the  young  singer  to  Paris.  Grassiui's 
beauty  was,  in  one  sense,  a  disadvantage  to  her  in  accepting 
this  invitation,  for  Josephine  was  so  jealous  that,  as  was  well 
known  at  the  time,  many  ladies  had  been  banished  from  Paris 
on  mere  suspicion.  She  took  an  inveterate  dislike  to  Grassini, 
and  violently  hated  her. 

Grassini  sang  on  the  22d  of  July  at  the  grand  fete  given  in 
honor  of  Marengo,  in  the  Church  of  the  Inyalides,  where  there 
were  assembled  eight  hundred  musicians.  This  magnificent 
solemnity  created  an  extraordinary  excitement.  The  bronzed 
warriors  of  Marengo  were  there,  their  helmets  flashing  in  the 
summer  sunlight,  and  two  regiments  of  Grenadiers  of  the 
Guard  arrived  at  the  moment  the  concert  commenced.  The 
military  airs  which  Gossec  had  composed  for  the  occasion 
were  executed  with  marvelous  precision  by  the  immense  or- 
chestra. Lays  surpassed  himself;  and  3Iadame  Grassini,  who 
had  made  a  profound  sensation  in  Paris,  seemed  inspired.  The 
Opera  corps  gave  the  ch.orus  from  La  Carctvane,  "  La  victoire 
est  a  nous,"  with  a  grand  trum])ct  accompaniment,  which  was 
almost  drowned  in  the  explosion  of  public  joy  and  delight. 

In  two  concerts  which  Madame  Grassini  gave  soon  after  at 
the  Academic  she  achieved  a  splendid  triumph.  At  the  first 
the  most  exclusive  members  of  the  Parisian  monde  and  the 
most  distinguished  str.'yigcrs  crowded  the  theatre ;  on  the  sec- 
ond occasion,  despite  the  tropical  heat,  the  house  was  complete- 
ly invaded  long  before  the  hour  for  commencing.  The  Opera 
did  not  i^erform  works  of  a  character  suited  to  her  style ;  she 
knew  but  little  French,  and  her  pronunciation  was  very  defect- 


176  QUEENS    OF   SONG. 

ive,  so  that  she  could  not  appear  at  the  Opera  Fran9ais,  and 
was  therefore  obliged  to  restrict  her  iDerformauces  to  concerts 
and  private  soirees.  Being  debarred  from  performing  at  the 
Opera,  Madame  Grassini  quitted  France  almost  immediately, 
receiving  before  her  departure  a  magnificent  present  from 
Napoleon. 

In  November,  1801,  the  Italian  prima  donna  was  in  Berlin, 
where  she  announced  concerts  which  seem  never  to  have  taken 
place.  Ill  1802  she  returned  to  France,  and  Napoleon  made 
her  directress  of  the  Opera  in  1804.  At  first  Josei^hine  had 
permitted  her  to  appear  at  her  private  concerts  at  the  Tuile- 
ries,  but  she  did  not  detest  the  beautiful  singer  less  cordially 
than  heretofore.  It  was  whispered  that  the  cantatrice  did  in 
reality  seek  to  attract  the  attention  of  Napoleon,  and  that  she 
turned  her  eyes  fixedly  toward  the  throne  of  the  Dictator — 
another  Cleoj^atra  endeavoring  to  captivate  Caesar. 

"  I  hear,  madame,  that  our  Grassini  is  a  favorite  with  the 
great  Napoleon,"  said  Count  Sommaglia  to  Josephine  one 
morning.  "  Yes,"  answered  the  irate  wife  of  the  First  Con- 
sul, hardly  able  to  disguise  her  spite,  "  the  ridiculous  vanity  of 
the  creature  amuses  us  amazingly.  Since  she  has  been  made 
directress  of  the  Italian  Opera,  there  is  more  intriguing  going 
on  among  these  gentry  than  there  is  Avith  the  diplomats :  in 
the  midst  of  a  serious  conversation,  she  will  break  out  into  a 
horse-laugh,  throw  herself  on  a  sofa,  and,  fancying  herself  Sp- 
miramis  on  the  throne  of  Nineveh,  burst  forth  in  a  great  style 
with  'Son  Regina,  e  son  amata!'"  ("I  am  a  queen,  and  I  am 
beloved!")  "One  day,"  says  Fouche,  " Bouajjarte  observed 
that,  considering  my  acknowledged  ability,  he  was  astonished 
I  did  not  perform  my  functions  better — that  there  were  sever- 
al things  of  which  I  was  ignorant.  'Yes,'  replied  I, 'there 
certainly  are  things  of  which  I  was  ignorant,  but  which  I  now 
know  well  enough.  For  instance,  a  little  man,  muffled  in  a 
gray  cloak,  and  accompanied  by  a  single  servant,  often  steals 
out  on  a  dark  evening  from  a  secret  door  of  the  Tuileries,  en- 
ters a  closed  carriage,  and  drives  oif  to  Signora  G .     This 

little  man  is  yourself,  and  yet  this  fancij'ul  songstress  jilts  you 
continually  for  Rode  the  fiddler.'  The  Consul  answered  not 
a  word ;  he  turned  his  back,  rang,  and  immediately  withdrew." 

The  Italian  Opera  of  London  was,  in  1804,  opened  under  the 
direction  of  Mr.  Francis  Goold,  who  engaged  Madame  Gras- 


GIUSEPPA   GRASSINl.  177 

fiini  for  the  season,  to  perform  alternately  with  Mrs.  Billington, 
giving  her  a  salary  of  £3000  for  the  months  of  March  to  July. 
Grassini  made  her  first  appearance  in  the  serious  opera  of  Xa 
Vergine  del  Sole,  by  Meyer,  and  her  fine  voice  was  heard  to 
peculiar  advantage  in  the  duet  of"  Parto,  ti  lascio,"  with  Viga- 
noni.  The  melody  of  the  cfteclive  grand  cliorus,  "Qual  error," 
in  this  opera,  Avas  much  admired  for  its  unusual  beauty  and 
originaHty.  The  origin  of  this  chorus,  as  told  by  Madame 
Grassini,  was  curious.  Meyer,  the  coraiaoser,  was  at  a  supper- 
party  at  Venice,  when  a  young  Englishman  being  asked  to  give 
a  song,  sang  the  ballad  "Pretty  Maud,  pretty  Maud."  Meyer, 
delighted  with  the  melody,  asked  for  pen  and  ink,  and  having 
requested  the  young  man  to  repeat  it,  set  it  down,  and  trans- 
formed the  simple  ballad  into  a  grand  chorus. 

Madame  Grassini,  although  she  had  so  fine  a  voice,  was  ex- 
tremely beautiful,  and  an  excellent  actress,  yet  did  not  make 
much  impression  at  first ;  and  this  want  of  aj:)preciation  on  the 
part  of  the  public  alarmed  the  Italian  donna  so  much  that 
when  her  benefit  was  about  to  take  place,  she  feared  to  ven- 
ture on  singing  alone,  and  begged  of  the  good-natured  Mrs. 
Billington  to  assist  her.  H  Batto  di  Proserpina  was  com- 
posed by  Winter  for  the  occasion,  Ceres  being  personated  by 
Billington,  and  Proserpina  by  Grassini.  The  music  of  each 
part  was  admirably  adapted  to  display  the  respective  powers 
oft  he  two  performers,  so  different,  yet  each  so  exquisite.  The 
plaintive  accents  of  Grassini  in  the  little  simple  air, "  Paga  fui," 
in  which  she  laments  the  happy  days  of  her  childhood,  sub- 
dued and  melted  every  heart,  and  brought  tears  to  many  eyes. 
The  tide  of  popularity  suddenly  set  in  for  Grassini.  She  car- 
ried ofl"  all  the  applause:  her  beauty,  her  command  of  expres- 
sion, her  grace,  were  universally  admitted,  and  she  became  at 
once  a  reigning  Queen  of  Song.  Her  deep  tones,  harmonizing 
with  the  clear,  birdlike  notes  of  Mrs.  Billington,  produced  a 
thrilling  efiect.  "  Not  only  was  she  rapturously  apj^lauded  in 
public,"  says  Lord  Mount  Edgecurabe, "  but  she  was  taken  up 
by  the  first  society,  feted,  caressed,  and  introduced  as  a  regular 
guest  in  most  of  the  fashionable  assemblies."  Of  the  claims 
to  admiration  of  the  two  singers  he  says,  somewhat  malicious- 
ly, "  No  doubt  the  deaf  would  have  been  charmed  with  Gras- 
sini, and  the  blind  must  have  been  delio-hted  with  Mrs.  Billinjr- 
ton."  The  airs  sung  by  the  two  prima  donnas  were  to  be 
12  II  2 


178  QUEENS   OF   SONG. 

found  on  the  piano-forte  of  every  lady  wlio  affected  to  sing 
Italian  music. 

II  Ratto  cU  Proserpina  was  the  only  opera  in  which  they 
appeared  together,  for  Goold,  contrary  to  all  advice,  engaged 
them  on  condition  that,  with  the  exception  of  the  one  opera, 
they  should  appear  singly  on  alternate  Tuesdays  and  Satur- 
days. It  was  understood  that  the  Saturdays  were  to  be  strict- 
ly kept,  for  the  difference  between  the  days  was  most  extra- 
ordinary, five  hundred  pounds  being  sometimes  taken  on  Sat- 
urday, and  often  only  sixty  pounds  on  Tuesday.  This  arrange- 
ment had  nearly  caused  the  theatre  to  be  shut  one  Tuesday 
night.  It  Avas  Mrs.  Billington's  turn  to  perform,  but  she  was 
so  hoarse  from  a  cold  that  she  could  not  sing  a  note.  Goold 
implored  Grassini  to  sing,  but  she  declared  that  no  inducement 
should  prevail  with  her  to  exchange  her  Saturday  for  a  Tues- 
day. Kelly,  as  stage  manager,  did  all  in  his  power  to  persuade 
her  to  relent,  but  she  was  deaf  to  all  entreaties.  At  last  he  re- 
sorted to  a  somewhat  reprehensible  method  of  inducing  her  to 
agree.  He  called  on  her  in  the  morning,  and  began  talking 
carelessly  on  the  subject.  "  My  dear  Grassini,"  said  he,  in  an 
off-hand  way, "  as  manager  I  ought  to  prevail  upon  you  to  per- 
form, but  as  a  performer  myself,  I  enter  entirely  into  your  feel- 
ings, and  think  you  perfectly  right  not  to  sing  out  of  your 
turn :  the  Saturday  is  yours ;  but  what  I  say  to  you  I  trust 
you  will  not  repeat  to  Mr.  Goold,  as  it  might  be  of  serious  in- 
jury to  me."  "Depend  upon  it,  my  dear  Kelly,"  answered 
Grassini,  "I  will  not;  I  look  upon  you,  by  what  you  have  just 
said,  to  be  my  sincere  friend."  As  he  was  leaving  the  room, 
he  turned,  as  with  a  sudden  thought.  "  To  be  sure,  it  is  rather 
imlucky  you  do  not  sing  to-night,  for  this  morning  a  message 
came  from  the  lord  chamberlain's  office  to  announce  the  queen's 
intention  to  come  incognita,  accompanied  by  the  princesses, 
purposely  to  see  you  perform;  and  a  large  grillee  is  actually 
ordered  to  be  prepared  for  them,  where  they  can  j^erfectly  see 
and  hear  without  being  seen  by  the  audience ;  but  I'll  step  my- 
self to  the  lord  chamberlain's  office,  and  state  that  you  are  con- 
fined to  your  bed,  and  express  your  mortification  at  disappoint- 
ing the  royal  party."  "  Stop,  Kelly,"  cried  the  cantatrice,  all 
in  a  flutter;  "  what  you  now  say  alters  the  case.  If  her  maj- 
esty Queen  Charlotte  wishes  to  see  La  Vergine  del  Sole,  and 
to  hear  me,  I  am  bound  to  obey  her  majesty's  commands.    Go 


GIUSEPPA   GEASSINI.  179 

to  Goold,  aud  tell  bim  I  will  sing."  Accoi'dingly,  she  did  per- 
form in  the  evening.  "  When  I  went  into  her  dressing-room 
after  the  first  act,"  says  Kelly,  "  her  majesty  not  having  ar- 
rived, Grassini,  suspicious  that  I  had  made  up  a  story  to  cajole 
her,  taxed  me  with  the  trick ;  and  when  I  confessed  it,  she 
took  it  very  good-naturedly,  and  joined  in  the  laugh  at  her 
own  credulity." 

Early  in  1805  Madame  Grassini  appeared  in  Cimarosa's  chef- 
d'oeuvre,  Gli  Orazi  eel  i  Curiazi,  which  was  got  up  with  great 
care.  Her  acting  in  this  piece  was  pronounced  to  be  almost 
equal  to  that  of  Mrs.  Siddons ;  in  the  last  scene  particularly, 
where  she  exclaimed,  "  O  Orazio,  mio  bene,"  leaning  over  her 
dead  husband,  she  was  "  positively  heart-rending."  The  opera 
drew  crowded  houses  to  the  King's  Theatre,  as  it  had  done  at 
Venice,  where  it  had  been  originally  produced.  Grassini  ap- 
peared at  Braham's  benefit,  June  13.  She  performed  between 
the  acts  in  a  scene  rej)resenting  Andromache  mourning  over 
the  tomb  of  Hector,  in  which  the  graces  of  her  action,  and  the 
pathetic  tones  of  her  voice,  vanquished  criticism  itself 

After  several  brilliant  seasons,  Madame  Grassini  left  En- 
gland, and  returned  to  the  Continent  in  180S,  She  was  im- 
mediately engaged  at  the  Parisian  Opera,  and  at  the  concerts 
of  the  court,  where  she  sang  with  Crescentini,  Brizzi,  Crivelli, 
Tacchinardi,  and  Madame  Paer.  Her  salary  was  30,000  francs, 
exclusive  of  about  15,000  francs'  worth  of  presents,  while  her 
pension  was  15,000  francs.  Among  the  operas  which  she 
sang  at  the  theatres  of  the  Tuileries  and  of  St.  Cloud  was  Di- 
do7ie,  which  Paer  comj^osed  expressly  for  her,  and  in  which 
she  performed  with  rare  talent  and  dramatic  expression.  She 
was  also  admirable  in  the  works  of  the  ancient  reiDertoire,  es- 
pecially in  the  CEdipe  of  Sacchini. 

Talma  used  to  say  of  Grassini  that  he  had  never  seen  any 
other  actress — not  even  Mars,  Dorval,  or  Duchesnois — endow- 
ed, with  a  physiognomy  so  expressive  or  so  mutable.  The 
Grecian  outline  of  her  profile,  her  beautiful  forehead,  rich  black 
hair  and  eyebrows,  her  superb  dark  eyes,  "  now  flashing  with 
tragedy's  fiery  passions,  then  softly  languishing  with  love ;" 
finally, "  that  astonishing  ensemble  of  perfections  which  Na- 
ture had  collected  in  her,  as  if  to  review  all  her  gifts  in  one 
woman — all  these  qualities  together  exercised  on  the  spectator 
such  a  charm  as  none  could  resist.    Pasta  herself  might  have 


180  QUEENS   OF   SONG. 

looked  on  and  learned,  when  Grassini  had  to  portray  either 
indignation,  grief,  auger,  or  despair." 

One  night  in  1808  she  sang  with  Crescentini,  in  Borneo  e 
GiuUetta,  at  the  Tuileries.  During  the  exquisite  scene  of 
the  third  act  the  audience  were  bathed  in  tears.  The  emper- 
or, carried  away,  and  forgetting  the  rules  of  etiquette,  clapped 
bis  hands  and  "  shouted  like  a  school-boy ;"  and  Talma,  seated 
on  a  bench  near  the  orchestra,  did  not  attempt  to  conceal  his 
emotion:  the  great  tragedian  confessed  that  he  had  never 
been  so  deeply  touched  by  any  thing  in  his  life  before. 

When  the  performance  was  over,  Napoleon  sent  to  La  Gras- 
sini a  slip  of  paper,  on  which  he  had  written,  "Bon  pour  vingt 
mille  francs,  Napoleon." 

Crescentini  glanced  at  the  paper.  "Twenty  thousand 
francs !"  cried  he.     "  That  is  a  round  sum." 

"  It  is  the  marriage  portion  of  one  of  my  nieces,"  replied 
Grassini,  smiling. 

To  Crescentini  the  emperor  sent  the  Order  of  the  Iron 
Crown. 

One  morning,  at  St.  Helena,  Napoleon  was  speaking  of  the 
tenacity  with  which  the  French  clung  to  slight  matters  of  de- 
corum :  "  In  conformity  with  my  system,"  observed  he,  "  of 
amalgamating  all  kinds  of  merit,  and  of  rendering  one  and  the 
same  reward  universal,  I  had  an  idea  of  presenting  the  Cross 
of  the  Legion  of  Honor  to  Talma;  but  I  refrained  from  doing 
this,  in  consideration  of  our  capricious  manners  and  absurd 
prejudices.  I  Avished  to  make  a  first  experiment  in  an  affair 
that  was  out  of  date  and  unimportant,  and  I  accordingly  gave 
the  Iron  Crown  to  Crescentini.  The  decoration  was  foreign, 
and  so  was  the  individual  on  whom  it  was  conferred.  This 
circumstance  was  less  likely  to  attract  public  notice  or  to  ren- 
der my  conduct  the  subject  of  discussion ;  at  woi'st,  it  could 
only  give  rise  to  a  few  malicious  jokes.  Such,"  continued  the 
emperor,  "is  the  influence  of  public  opinion.  I  distributed 
sceptres  at  will,  and  thousands  readily  bowed  beneath  their 
sway;  and  yet  I  could  not  give  away  a  ribbon  without  the 
chance  of  incurring  disapprobation,  for  I  believe  my  experi- 
ment with  regard  to  Crescentini  proved  unsuccessful."  "It 
did,  sire,"  observed  some  one  present.  "  The  circumstance 
occasioned  a  great  outcry  in  Paris ;  it  drew  forth  a  general 
anathema  in  all  the  drawing-rooms  of  the  metropolis,  and  af- 


GIUSEPPA   GRASSINI.  181 

forded  ample  scope  for  the  expression  of  malignant  feeling. 
However,  at  one  of  the  evening  parties  of  the  Faubourg  Saint 
Germain,  a  bon-mot  had  the  cfiect  of  completely  stemming  the 
torrent  of  indignation.  A  pompous  orator  was  holding  forth, 
in  an  eloquent  strain,  on  the  subject  of  the  honor  that  had  been 
conferred  on  Crescentini.  He  declared  it  to  be  a  disgrace,  a 
horror,  a  perfect  profanation,  and  inquired  what  right  Crescen- 
tini could  have  to  such  a  distinction.  On  hearing  this,  the 
beautiful  Madame  Grassini,  who  was  present,  rose  majestically 
from  her  chair,  and,  with  a  truly  theatrical  tone  and  gesture, 
exclaimed,  ''Et  sa  blessure,  monsieur!  do  you  make  no  allow- 
ance for  that  ?'  This  produced  a  general  burst  of  laughter  and 
applause,  and  poor  Madame  Grassini  was  very  much  embar- 
rassed by  her  success." 

"  The  emperor,  Avho  now  heard  this  anecdote  for  the  first 
time,"  says  Las  Cases,  "was  highly  amused  by  it.  He  often 
afterward  alluded  to  it,  and  occasionally  related  it  himself." 

In  1812  Madame  Grassini  reappeared  in  England  at  the 
King's  Theatre,  and  was  at  first  rapturously  received.  But 
she  was  no  longer  Avhat  she  had  been.  Her  beauty  was  undi- 
minished, but  her  acting  was  now  languid  and  ineifective; 
at  least  it  appeared  so,  contrasted  by  the  energetic  and  ani- 
mated manner  of  her  successor,  Catalani.  Her  voice,  too,  was 
changed :  she  had  endeavored  to  regain  its  upper  register,  and, 
instead  of  a  mellow  contralto,  it  had  become  a  hoarse  soprano. 
Still,  hoAvever,  she  displayed  much  of  her  former  grace  and 
style,  especially  in  her  favorite  part  of  Orazia,  and  in  Paer's 
opera,  Didone.  But  the  public  found  that  she  was  no  longer 
the  Grassini  of  four  years  back ;  and  after  one  season  she  de- 
parted, unregretted. 

Slie  went  to  Milan  in  181G,  where  she  sang  with  Trammez- 
zani;  and  appeared  there  also  in  1817,  in  Gli  Orazi,  etc.,  with 
her  sister  Rosa  and  the  tenor  Banderoli.  She  went  next  to 
Amsterdam;  and  in  1818  she  sang  in  concerts  at  the  San 
Benedetto,  Venice.  In  1820  she  was  singing  at  Brescia,  in 
Nasolini's  Semiramide,  and  Rossini's  Eduardo  e  Cristina;  in 
1822  she  was  at  Munich,  and  then  at  Vienna,  where  she  sang 
in  Cimarosa's  Gli  Orazi  ed  i  Curiazi,  and  in  a  new  opera  by 
Pixis.  In  the  spring  of  1823  she  was  at  Florence,  with  Rosa 
Morandi  and  Eliodoro  Bianchi. 

Madame  Grassini  married  Colonel  Ragani,  afterward  direct- 


182  QUEENS   OF  SONG. 

or  of  the  Opera  in  Paris ;  and  that  city,  where  she  had  passed 
the  happiest  years  of  her  life,  was  chosen  by  her  for  her  re- 
tirement. 

In  private  life  Madame  Grassini  was  exceedingly  agreeable, 
though  she  had  no  pretensions  to  brilliant  conversational 
powers.  She  was  gay  and  good-humored,  and  very  unafiected. 
Exemj)!  from  all  feelings  of  envy  or  jealousy,  she  was  always 
ready  to  oblige  other  artistes,  and  to  bring  forward  young  as- 
pirants to  fame. 

M.  Scudo,  in  his  Mitsique  Ancienne  et  Mbderne,  tells  an 
amusing  anecdote  of  the  famous  cantatrice.  At  a  party,  given 
in  Paris  some  time  about  1838,  at  which  Madame  Grassini 
was  present,  the  conversation  turned  on  Napoleon  and  Louis 
XVIII.  Some  one  imagined  the  two  meeting  in  the  Elysiau 
Fields,  and  discussing  the  great  events  which  had  taken  place 
in  their  time,  and  every  one  present  contributed  an  idea  to  this 
improvised  dialogue  of  the  dead.  Madame  Grassini  archly 
said,  "I  am  sure  that  the  first  question  which  the  great  Napo- 
leon would  jDut  to  King  Louis  would  be  this :  '  Why  did  you 
not  continue  the  pension  which  I  had  given  to  my  dear  Gras- 
sini ?' " 

Madame  Grassini  died,  January,  1850,  at  Milan,  in  her 
eighty-fifth  year.  So  well  had  she  preserved  her  looks,  that 
she  did  not  appear  to  be  more  than  fifty.  Her  portrait,  by 
Madame  Lebrun,  is  at  Avignon,  in  the  museum  of  that  city. 


ANGELICA   CATAT.ANI.  183 


CHAPTER  XV. 

ANGELICA    CATALANI. 

In  a  fertile  valley  near  Sinigaglia,  a  small  obscure  town 
about  forty  miles  from  Rome,  there  dwelt,  toward  the  latter 
end  of  the  last  century,  a  humble  family,  consisting  of  father 
and  mother, four  girls, and  two  boys.  "Contented  wi'  little," 
because  they  never  dreamed  of  having  more,  the  family  "was 
just  sufficiently  raised  above  the  villagers  to  secure  respect 
without  exciting  envy.  Signor  Augustus  Catalan!  was  a  local 
magistrate,  a  sort  of  justice  of  the  peace  ;  and,  in  order  to  in- 
crease his  income — rather  straitened  by  the  necessities  of  six 
children — he  dealt  in  diamonds,  making  his  most  profitable 
Bales  at  the  great  annual  fair  held  in  the  vicinity. 

Angelica,  one  of  the  girls,  born  in  October,  1119,  was  se- 
lected as  the  one  who  should  be  provided  for  by  being  })laced 
in  a  convent.  The  child,  ardent,  susceptible,  and  gay,  did  not 
make  any  objection  to  change  her  monotonous  home  life  for 
the  society  at  the  convent;  on  the  contrary,  she  skipped  about 
in  childish  glee,  full  of  pleasant  anticipations.  She  was  twelve 
years  old  when  her  fiither  took  her  one  morning  to  the  con- 
vent of  Sta.  Lucia  di  Gubbio,  wliich  was  twenty  leagues  from 
Sinigaglia,  in  the  duchy  of  Urbino.  The  establishment  being 
exclusively  devoted  to  the  education  of  noble  young  ladies  of 
the  province,  Signor  Catalani  secured  the  admission  of  his 
daughter  by  proving  his  relationship  with  the  house  of3Iastai, 
the  family  to  which  Pope  Pius  IX.  belongs.  Angelica's  moth- 
er was  very  averse  to  dooming  the  lively  child  to  a  life  so 
freezing,  so  heart-wearing,  so  antagonistic  to  all  her  instincts 
as  that  of  a  nunnery ;  but  the  signor  would  listen  to  no  re- 
monstrance, and  Angelica  clnpi^ed  her  hands  and  danced  for 
joy  at  the  prospect  of  joining  so  select  a  throng  of  young  dam- 
sels and  veiled  sisters.  So,  with  tearful  eyes,  the  mother  went, 
with  her  husband  and  child,  to  present  Angelica  to  the  lady 
superior.  The  abbess  was  a  woman  of  refined  mind,  entirely 
free  from  bigotry,  and  won  the  hearts  of  her  children  by  her 
kindness  and  amiability. 


184 


QUEENS    OP   SOXG. 


Music  being  an  essential  part  of  the  services  of  the  convent, 
on  Sundays,  and  high  festivals  especially,  the  nuns  and  novices 
sang  hymns  and  sacred  pieces,  which  drew  crowds  to  the 
chapel.  It  was  soon  discovered  that  the  Signorina  Catalani 
had  a  lovely  voice,  and  the  lady  abbess  determined  on  giving 
her  every  opportunity  of  cultivating  the  gift.  Ere  long  the 
flexibility,  compass,  and  brilliancy  of  her  tones  excited  such 
wonder  among  the  nuns  that  it  was  debated  whether  it  would 
not  be  justifiable  to  use  so  rare  an  endowment  as  a  means  of 
attracting  a  greater  concourse  of  worshipers  to  the  shrine  of 
their  patroness,  Santa  Lucia.  They  commenced  by  giving 
Angelica  short  solos  to  sing,  which  became  noticed  immedi- 
ately, and  on  fete-days  the  doors  of  the  chapel  were  so  thronged 
that  numbers  were  obliged  to  go  away,  despairing  of  a  chance 
to  hear  la  maravigUosa  Arigelica.  Scandalized  by  the  chapel 
being  transformed  into  a  kind  of  concert-room  or  theatre,  some 
scrupulous  devotee  complained  to  the  bishop,  and,  in  conse- 
quence, the  lady  abbess  received  a  summary  injunction  to  dis- 
continue so  objectionable  a  practice.  This  Avas  very  hard, 
when  it  proved  a  source  of  such  emolument  to  the  establish- 
ment ;  so  the  abbess  quietly  placed  her  young  friend  behind  a 
group  of  novices,  who  concealed  her  and  tempered  the  bril- 
liancy of  her  voice,  while  the  congregation  knew  very  well 
that  their  favorite  still  sang.  On  one  occasion  Angelica  sang 
"  Ave  Maria  Stella"  so  touchingly,  that,  melted  into  tears,  the 
crowd  pressed  toward  the  place  where  she  stood,  anxious  to 
obtain  a  glimpse  of  the  fair  Angelica. 

Eager  for  study,  the  little  girl  at  last  brought  on  herself  a 
serious  illness  by  striving  to  outstrip  her  companions;  and  the 
venerable  abbess,  alarmed  by  her  loss  of  bloom  and  her  wea- 
ried looks,  sent  in  haste  for  her  parents.  She  was  now  four- 
teen, and  had  profited  more  by  her  musical  studies  in  two 
years'  sojourn  than  many  another  had  done  in  twice  that  time; 
but  of  course  her  education  was  still  wofully  deficient  in  other 
respects,  and  this  she  never  repaired.  On  her  return  home, 
the  neighbors,  learning  the  opinion  of  the  abbess  that  the  voice 
of  Angelica  was  perfect,  flocked  to  Signer  Catalani's  house 
with  the  hope  of  hearing  the  new  prodigy;  and  with  girlish 
vanity  she  would  often  show  them  that  they  did  not  require 
to  enter  the  house  to  hear  her  magic  strains,  by  singing  with 
a  power  so  tremendous  that  she  could  be  heard  at  a  long  dis- 
tance. 


ANGELICA   CATALANI.  185 

It  was  repvesented  to  her  father  that  a  gift  so  rare  ought 
not  to  be  thrown  aAvay,  and  that  he  ought  to  take  some  steps 
toward  training  AngeUca  to  the  duties  of  a  professional  life ; 
but  for  some  time  he  was  unable  to  decide  on  allowino-  his 
daughter  to  be  devoted  to  the  profanity  of  the  theatre:  a  rigid 
Roman  Catholic,  viewing,  too,  with  pardonable  complacency, 
his  dignity  as  a  magistrate,  he  was  loth  that  a  child  of  his 
should  be  a  vocalist  by  profession.  At  length,  however,  he 
was  forced  by  circumstances  to  yield  to  the  urgent  entreaties 
of  those  about  him,  for  he  was  reduced  to  jioverty  by  the  Ital- 
ian wars,  and  he  made  arrangements  for  taking  Angelica  to 
Rome,  when  his  intentions  were  forestalled  by  the  accidental 
visit  to  their  quiet  valley  of  an  eminent  musical  comj^oser,  who 
became  her  instructor. 

From  the  hands  of  this  master  Angelica  was  taken  by  her 
father  to  Florence,  to  receive  finishing  lessons  from  Marchesi. 
That  virtuoso  taught  her  partly  to  control  the  profuse  luxuri- 
ancy  of  her  voice,  but  at  the  same  time  he  unfortunately  en- 
couraged her  fondness  for  the  "jjomps  and  tinsel"  of  vocaliza- 
tion. While  studying,  she  went  to  hear  a  great  singer  at  the 
theatre  of  Florence,  and,  while  listening  to  the  ravishing 
strains,  the  tears  began  to  steal  down  her  cheeks.  "Alas!" 
she  cried,  with  a  naivete  which  Avas  almost  touching,  "  I  shall 
never  attain  perfection  like  this!"  The  cantatrice  desired  to 
see  the  young  girl  who  felt  her  power  so  deeply,  and,  having 
asked  her  to  sing,  embraced  her  with  tenderness,  saying,  "  Be 
reassured,  my  child :  in  a  few  yeais  you  will  surpass  me,  and 
it  will  be  I  Avho  shall  weep  at  your  success." 

At  the  age  of  sixteen  Angelica  met  with  her  first  engage- 
ment. Just  at  this  time — 1795 — Caros,  the  director  of  La 
Fenice,  was  in  despair.  He  had  prepared  a  new  opera  for  the 
Carnival  with  the  utmost  care  and  splendor,  when  his  prima 
donna  suddenly  died ;  and,  knowing  not  where  to  seek  a  sub- 
stitute, he  was  contemplating  the  very  unpleasant  alternative 
of  closing  his  theatre.  Zamboni,  the  prompter,  mentioned  that 
he  Avas  acquainted  Avith  a  young  girl  who  seemed  to  promise 
well,  and  introduced  Angelica.  Caros  at  once  accepted  her 
ofier  of  singing  for  him,  and  she  made  her  debut  in  the  part 
of  Lodoiska,  in  the  opera  of  that  name  by  Mayer.  She  was 
the  loveliest  debutante  that  had  come  forward  for  years,  and 
such  a  voice  had  never  been  heard  before.    Tall,  and  of  fine 


186 


QUEENS    OF    SONG. 


proportion,  dazzlingly  fair,  witli  "beautiful  blue  eyes,  and  lovely 
yet  noble-looking  features,  she  was  lilce  a  painter's  ideal.  Her 
physiognomy  was  capable  of  every  shade  of  expression,  both 
playful  and  forcible ;  for,  though  almost  severely  grand  in  out- 
line, her  features  could  assume  the  character  "  not  merely  of 
gayety,  but  of  arch  simplicity,  and  her  smile  was  charming." 
Her  voice  was  a  sopi'ano  of  the  purest  quality,  embracing  a 
compass  of  nearly  three  octaves,  from  G  to  F,  and  so  powerful 
that  no  band  could  overwhelm  its  tones,  which  thrilled  through 
every  fibre  of  the  hearer.  Full,  rich,  and  magnificent  beyond 
any  other  voice  ever  heard,  "  it  bore  no  resemblance,"  said  one 
writer,  "  to  any  instrument,  except  we  could  imagine  the  tone 
of  musical  glasses  to  be  magnified  in  volume  to  the  same  gra- 
dation of  power."  She  could  ascend  at  will — though  she  was 
ignorant  of  the  rules  of  art — from  the  smallest  perceptible 
sound  to  the  loudest  and  most  magnificent  crescendo,  exactly 
as  she  pleased.  One  of  her  favorite  caprices  of  ornament  was 
to  imitate  the  swell  and  fall  of  a  bell,  making  her  tones  sweep 
through  the  air  with  the  most  delicious  undulation,  and,  using 
her  voice  at  pleasure,  she  would  shower  her  graces  in  an  ab- 
solutely wasteful  profusion.  Her  greatest  defect  Avas  that, 
while  the  ear  was  bewildered  with  the  beauty  and  tremendous 
power  of  her  voice,  the  feelings  were  untouched :  she  never 
touched  the  heart.  She  could  not,  like  Mara,  thrill,  nor,  like 
Billington,  captivate,  her  hearers  by  a  birdlike  softness  and 
brilliancy ;  she  simply  astonished.  "  She  was  a  florid  singer, 
and  nothing  but  a  florid  singer,  whether  grave  or  airy,  in  the 
church,  orchestra,  or  upon  the  stage."  With  a  prodigious 
volume  and  richness  of  tone,  and  a  marvelous  rapidity  of  vo- 
calization, she  could  execute  brilliantly  the  most  florid  nota- 
tion, leaving  her  audience  in  breathless  amazement ;  but  her 
intonation  was  very  uncertain.  However,  this  did  not  trouble 
her  much. 

In  the  season  of  1V98 — three  years  after  her  debut — she 
sang  at  Leghorn,  with  Crivelli,  Marchesi,  and  Mrs.  Billington. 
In  1799  the  Prince  Regent  of  Portugal,  a  great  musical  ama- 
teur, invited  the  lovely  Angelica  to  Lisbon,  desiring  to  secure 
her  services  as  first  singer  in  his  Chapel  Royal.  On  her  ar- 
rival there  she  received  an  offer  from  the  director  of  the  Opera, 
at  a  salary  of  24,000  cruzados  (three  thousand  pounds),  which 
the  prince  permitted  her  to  accept.    Crescentini  took  a  kindly 


ANGELICA  CATALANI.  ISV 

interest  in  his  young  countrywoman,  and  gave  her  much  use- 
ful advice ;  and  as  he  was  a  master  of  a  far  more  severe  school 
than  Marchesi,  she  profited  by  his  instructions.  During  sev- 
eral seasons  she  was  the  idol  of  tlie  city  as  well  as  of  the  court 
of  Lisbon,  The  reserve  of  her  manners,  her  known  piety,  and 
the  goodness  of  her  heart  Avon  all  alike.  As  for  the  regent,  he 
treated  her  as  one  of  his  own  children. 

It  happened  that  there  was,  in  the  suite  of  General  Lannes, 
French  embassador  at  Lisbon,  a  young  officer  of  noble  family, 
M.  de  Vallebrequc,  captain  of  Hussars ;  a  handsome  man,  of 
distinguished  appearance  and  fine  manners,  if  not  particularly 
remarkable  for  talent.  He  had  been  compelled  to  fly  his  na- 
tive country,  though  for  reasons  by  no  means  discreditable. 
Being  quartered  in  a  German  town  with  some  brother  officers, 
he  had  received  a  gross  insult  from  a  young  count,  his  supe- 
rior officer,  whom  he  challenged ;  the  count*  was  wounded,  to 
death  as  it  seemed,  and  Vallebreque  sought  refuge  in  an  ob- 
scure part  of  Vienna.  While  he  lay  in  concealment  the  count 
recovered,  and,  being  a  good-natured  young  man,  would  have 
gladly  become  reconciled  to  his  gallant  subaltern  ;  but  his  fam- 
ily vindictively  determined  to  bring  the  matter  to  a  court- 
martial,  and  as  they  were  wealthy  and  powerful,  the  day  went 
against  poor  De  Vallebreque,  who  was  condemned  to  perpetu- 
al banishment.  As  it  was  unsafe  for  him  to  remain  in  the  Aus- 
trian territory,  he  quitted  it  forever,  and  joined  the  suite  of 
General  Lannes. 

One  night,  as  Angelica  was  singing  in  the  theatre,  her  eyes 
alighted  on  this  handsome  young  man,  who  was  sitting  in  one 
of  the  boxes,  elaborately  dressed,  and  distinguished  especially 
by  a  diamond  aigrette  in  front  of  his  military  cap.  Now  An- 
gelica was  not  above  the  little  weaknesses  of  her  sex  :  she  liked 
diamonds,  and  did  not  object  to  being  admired ;  and  she  could 
not  avoid  remarking  the  ardent  though  respectful  glances  di- 
rected toward  her  by  the  owner  of  the  brilliant  aigrette.  It 
was  with  a  coquettish  pleasure,  therefore,  that  she  observed 
the  distinguished-looking  yoimg  officer  in  the  green-room  when 
she  came  off  the  stage ;  nor  did  she  assume  her  most  forbid- 
ding frown  when  he  was  introduced  to  her  as  "M.  de  Valle- 
breque," captain  in  the  8th  Hussars.  After  this  she  had  fre- 
quent opportunities  of  meeting  the  young  officer  in  the  circle 
of  the  French  embassador.    His  manners  were  lively  and  ele- 


188  QUEENS    or   SONG. 

gant,  and  he  was  of  an  ardent  temperament.  Angelica  was 
cbai'ming  in  conversation,  energetic  and  spirited,  but  possessed 
of  great  sensibility,  sweetness  of  temper,  and  warmth  of  affec- 
tion ;  and  it  was  impossible  to  be  in  her  society  without  being 
fascinated  by  her  good-humor,  vivacity,  and  simplicity  of  char- 
acter. They  were  both  in  the  first  flush  of  youth  and  beauty, 
and  they  mutually  fell  i^assionately  in  love. 

M.  de  Vallebreque  went  to  Signor  Catalani  to  ask  his  sanc- 
tion to  their  union.  But  papa  had  other  ideas  with  regard  to 
his  daughter.  Already  she  was  reaping  a  golden  harvest  by 
her  talents,  and  he  felt  disinclined  to  relinquish  such  a  source 
of  wealth.  He  therefore  coldly  repressed  the  proposals  of  the 
lover,  and,  though  he  could  afford  no  sufficient  reason.,;  for  dis- 
couraging his  suit,  he  yet  gave  him  to  understand  that  it  was 
hopeless.  Poor  Angelica  was  miserable  when  she  learned  the 
cold  reception  her  handsome  young  soldier  had  met  with,  and 
became  so  thoroughly  wretched  that  in  a  few  days  she  could 
not  sing,  or  would  not  sing,  for  she  was  hasty  and  passionate 
to  a  most  extraordinary  degree.  Affairs  were  in  this  state, 
when  one  morning  her  fither  received  an  anonymous  letter 
stating  that  M.  de  Vallebreque  was  a  banished  and  proscribed 
person.  Glad  of  this  reasonable  excuse,  the  signor  command- 
ed that  De  Vallebreque  should  never  enter  the  house  until  he 
had  disproved  the  accusation.  In  vain  the  young  officer  de- 
manded an  interview  in  order  that  he  might  rebut  the  charge, 
which  he  was  conscious  he  could  do  to  the  satisfaction  of  even 
the  most  partial.  The  signor  sent  the  same  answer  to  every 
entreaty :  when  the  charge  was  proved  to  be  false,  then — more 
might  be  said.  Angelica  wept,  sighed,  and,  worst  of  all,  was 
incapable  of  singing:  the  only  sentence  that  could  be  extract- 
ed from  her  was  a  deeply  mournful  "Ma  che  bel  uffiziale!" 

At  last,  Signor  Catalani,  seeing  it  was  useless  to  persist, 
agreed  to  read  Vallebreque's  written  account  of  the  origin  of 
the  transaction  alluded  to  by  the  anonymous  writer. 

But  he  chose  to  be  still  dissatisfied,  though  he  yielded  so  far 
to  his  daughter's  passionate  representations  that  he  wrote  to 
Vienna,  inquiring  into  the  circumstances.  While  awaiting  the 
reply,  the  agony  of  suspense  which  the  young  girl  endured  was 
almost  beyond  her  strength.  Her  father,  irascible  and  impa- 
tient, Avns  furious,  and  finally,  unable  to  control  her  feelings  be- 
fore others,  Angelica  confined  herself  to  her  room  until  the  an- 


ANGELICA   CATALANI.  189 

swer  came.  It  arrived  at  length,  and  fully  exculpated  De  Val- 
lebreque,  whose  praise  was  in  the  mouth  of  every  one  as  a  spir- 
ited and  noble  young  man.  The  count  bore  him  no  malice, 
and  was  known  to  speak  warmly  of  his  antagonist's  high  sense 
of  honor. 

But  Signor  Catalani  still  persisted  that  his  family  should 
never  be  disgraced  by  an  alliance  with  a  banished  man.  An- 
gelica, justly  indignant  at  his  utter  want  of  feeling,  Avithdrew 
to  her  own  room  once  more,  and,  alternately  choked  with  pas- 
sion and  melted  to  tears,  only  thought  of  some  means  of  es- 
cape. Looking  from  her  window  in  the  gray  of  the  morning, 
her  pale  cheeks  wet  with  tears,  she  perceived  a  figure  standing 
in  the  shadow  cast  by  the  opposite  house.  It  was  her  lover, 
who  held  up  a  billet  toward  her.  She  quickly  formed  a  rope 
by  tying  handkerchiefs  together,  and  drew  the  letter  up ;  Val- 
lebreque  then  hastily  quitted  the  place.  The  billet  told  her,  in 
passionate  language,  that  no  one  had  a  right  to  separate  them 
as  betrothed  lovers,  and  urged  her  to  recover  her  spirits,  so  as 
to  be  enabled  to  resume  her  professional  duties ;  then,  as  she 
was  a  favorite  at  court,  she  might  throw  herself  at  the  feet  of 
the  prince  and  plead  their  cause,  confident  of  success.  Flushed 
with  hope,  Angelica  astonished  her  family  by  suddenly  declar- 
ing herself  ready  to  resume  her  performances.  But  papa,  as- 
tute and  cautious,  suspected  that  there  was  some  plot,  and  re- 
solved to  redouble  his  vigilance. 

With  a  firm  step  and  joyful  countenance  she  reappeared  on 
the  stage,  and  was  welcomed  back  with  acclamations  of  de- 
light. She  surpassed  herself;  but,  unluckily,  the  prince  did 
not  appear.  The  reaction  was  terrible :  she  was  utterly  cast 
down  ;  and  her  father,  observing  her  joy  and  subsequent  lan- 
guor, flattered  himself  that  he  had  cleverly  prevented  a  meet- 
ing between  the  lovers.  Angelica,  on  reaching  her  chamber, 
sat  down  to  think,  and  soon  made  up  her  mind  as  to  what  she 
should  do.  At  break  of  day  she  hurriedly  stole  down  the 
back  stairs,  wrapped  in  a  cloak  belonging  to  one  of  the  male 
servants,  surmounted  by  a  broad  hat  with  a  drooping  feather, 
and  with  a  manly  step  and  a  fluttering  heart  she  approached 
the  palace.  While  pacing  slowly  to  and  fro,  she  was  startled 
by  observing  a  figure  which  also  walked  backward  and  for- 
ward, v/ith  folded  arms.  It  Avas  M.  do  Vallcbreque.  Glancing 
at  him  from  beneath  the  shelter  of  her  hat,  she  drew  back  still 


190  QUEENS   OF   SONG. 

farther  into  the  shadow  of  the  wall ;  an  instant's  reflection 
overcame  a  momentary  feeling  of  distrust,  and  she  hid  herself 
in  a  niche  till  he  was  gone,  resolving  not  to  have  it  said  that 
she  came  out  at  that  unseemly  hour  to  keep  a  secret  assigna- 
tion. 

At  last  the  palace  awoke  to  its  daily  life,  and  the  restless 
Angelica  went  up  to  one  of  the  doors,  to  inquire  at  what  time 
his  royal  highness  took  his  morning  Avalk  in  his  private  gar- 
dens. The  servant,  somewhat  surprised,  answered  that  the 
prince  was  then  at  his  villa.  Sick,  trembling,  almost  fainting, 
Angelica  paused  for  a  moment;  her  dearest  hopes  seemed 
dashed  to  the  ground,  and  she  felt  utterly  discouraged.  After 
a  moment's  thought,  her  accustomed  energy  suggested  the  only 
course  left  to  her,  and  she  resolved  to  go  at  once  to  the  royal 
villa.  She  hired  a  coach,  and  was  driven  thither,  a  distance  of 
some  twenty  miles.  On  her  name  being  announced,  she  read- 
ily found  admittance  to  the  presence  of  her  royal  patron. 
Trembling,  faint  from  fatigue  and  suppressed  emotion,  when 
she  found  herself  with  the  prince,  she  was  unable  to  utter  a 
syllable,  and  could  only  sink  at  his  feet,  until  his  kind  words 
and  offers  of  service  restored  her  confidence.  Then,  summon- 
ing resolution,  she  told  her  story  simply,  and  with  no  attempt 
at  concealment.  His  hiarhness  could  not  resist  an  inclination 
to  exercise  his  wit  at  the  expense  of  the  beautiful  cantatrice ; 
but  she  was  so  agitated  that  her  usual  naivet^  and  power  of 
repartee  were  utterly  gone  for  the  time,  and  he  could  not  find 
it  in  his  heart  to  continue  his  badinage.  He  then  gravely 
advised  her  to  relinquish  all  idea  of  Vallebreque,  though  he 
admitted  he  could  allege  nothiiig  against  the  gallant  young 
Frenchman  except  her  fither's  disapprobation.  But  the  good- 
natured  prince,  touched  by  the  grief  and  despair  of  the  poor 
girl,  whose  white  face  and  trembling  frame  attested  her  wretch- 
edness, assured  her  that  as  she  had  justice  and  virtue  on  her 
side,  he  would  grant  her  his  license  for  the  marriage.  Angel- 
ica, exulting  in  her  success,  flew  to  a  dear  female  friend  and 
dispatched  a  messenger  to  inform  her  parents  th.at  she  was 
safe,  and  before  they  could  discover  her  she  had  become  Ma- 
dame de  Vallebreque,  the  marriage  ceremony  being  celebrated 
at  the  court  chapel,  in  the  presence  of  the  prince  regent  and 
General  Lannes.  Papa  Catalani  was  in  a  towering  rage,  and 
vented  his  anger  in  no  measured  terms.    De  Vallebreque  was, 


ANGELICA   CATALANI.  191 

however,  generous,  and,  having  ascertained  that  a  pretty  es- 
tate in  Tuscany  was  for  sale,  he  invested  the  first  profits  of  his 
wife's  professional  exertions  in  purchasing  it,  and  presented  it 
to  his  father-in-law. 

Angelica,  having  rendered  her  maiden  name  eminent,  did 
not  adopt  that  of  her  husband  in  coming  before  the  public. 
In  1801  she  sang  at  La  Scala,  in  Zingarelli's  Clitemnestra,  and 
in  the  Baccanali  di  Roma  of  Nasolini.  From  Milan  she  passed 
to  Florence,  to  Trieste,  Rome,  and  Naples,  and  was  every  where 
admired.  She  was  by  nature  exceedingly  timid,  however,  and 
her  nervousness  unfortunately  rendered  her  gestures  somewhat 
spasmodic,  and  gave  a  certain  wildness  to  her  eyes  in  acting ; 
indeed,  her  most  intimate  friends  declared  that  it  was  as  pain- 
ful to  her  to  appear  at  the  Opera  as  it  was  agreeable  singing 
at  concerts. 

The  manager  of  the  London  Italian  Opera,  early  in  1 806, 
oflTered  Madame  Catalani  an  engagement  at  a  salary  of  two 
hundred  guineas.  She  accepted  it,  but  went  first  to  Madrid, 
where  she  was  received  cordially  by  the  queen,  under  Avhose 
patronage  she  gave  several  concerts,  the  price  of  admission  to 
which  was  four  ounces  of  gold  for  the  principal  places,  being 
equal  to  twenty-one  guineas  a  seat.  Then  passing  into  France, 
she  arrived  in  Paris  in  April,  1806,  sang  twice  at  St.  Cloud, 
and  gave  three  public  concerts,  each  of  which  produced  twen- 
ty-four thousand  francs,  the  price  being  trebled  on  these  occa- 
sions. At  the  first  concert,  which  took  place  July  22,  Madame 
Catalani  sang  two  airs  from  Cimarosa,  and  an  air  from  the 
Semiramicle  of  Portogallo— "  Son  Rcgina."  At  the  second 
concert  she  chose  an  air  from  Nasolini's  Baccanali  dl  Roma, 
and  others  from  the  Zaire  and  Semuxmiide  of  Portogallo,  her 
favorite  composer.  At  the  third  concert  she  added  to  the 
preceding  morceaux  an  air  of  Piccini's — "Se  il  ciel  mi  divide." 

Napoleon,  always  anxious  to  surround  himself  with  great 
artistes,  and  desirous  of  diverting  the  thoughts  of  his  Parisian 
subjects  from  matters  into  which  he  did  not  wish  them  to  in- 
quire too  minutely,  spared  no  temptations  to  induce  the  Italian 
cantatrice  to  remain  in  the  gay  capital.  He  sent  for  her  to 
the  Tuileries,  and  Catalani,  trembling  at  the  idea  of  an  inter- 
view with  the  emperor,  on  entering  his  apartment,  shivered 
like  a  ballerina  Availing  at  the  wings  on  a  cold  night.  His  im- 
perial majesty  was  very  gracious.     "  Oil  allcz-vous,  madamc  ?" 


192  QUEENS    OE   SONG. 

he  asked,  smiling.  "  To  London,  sire,"  she  replied.  "  If  you 
will  remain  in  Paris,"  said  he,  "  I  will  pay  you  well,  and  your 
talent  will  be  better  appreciated.  You  shall  have  a  hundred 
thousand  francs  per  annum,  and  two  months  for  conge. 
Come,  that  is  settled.  Adieu,  madame."  The  cantatrice  re- 
tired, "more  dead  than  alive,"  from  the  presence  of  her 
brusque  interlocutor.  She  described  her  interview  with  the 
terrible  Napoleon  as  having  been  la  plus  grande  emotion  she 
had  ever  experienced  in  her  life. 

At  that  time  it  was  customary  with  vocalists,  the  Avomen 
more  particularly,  to  refuse  a  honorarium^  in  the  hope  that  it 
would  be  replaced  by  some  bijou  of  much  greater  value,  a  gift 
from  Napoleon  being  the  object  of  their  ambition.  Catalan! 
did  not  receive  this  favor,  but  the  emperor  made  her  a  present 
of  5000  francs,  with  2. pension  of  1200  francs,  and  allowed  her 
the  use  of  the  Opera  gratuitously  for  her  concerts.  Madame 
Catalani,  anxious  to  get  to  London,  to  which  she  looked  as  a 
rich  harvest-field,  and  regarding  the  grim  Napoleon  as  the  foe 
of  the  legitimate  king,  was  determined  not  to  stay.  "  When 
at  Paris  I  was  denied  a  passport,"  she  afterward  said ;  "how- 
ever, I  got  introduced  to  Talleyrand,  and,  by  the  aid  of  a  hand- 
ful of  gold,  I  was  put  into  a  government  boat,  and  ordered  to 
lie  down  to  avoid  being  shot ;  and,  wonderful  to  relate,  I  got 
over  in  safety  with  my  little  boy  seven  months  old."  She  em- 
barked at  Morlaix  on  board  a  vessel  which  had  been  sent  for 
the  exchange  of  prisoners,  the  captain  agreeing  to  take  her  for 
150  livres. 

On  the  15th  of  December,  1806,  she  made  her  debut  in  Lon- 
don, with  Signor  Siboui,  in  the  serious  opera  of  La  Semi- 
ramide^  composed  expressly  for  her  by  Portogallo.  Her  per- 
sonation of  the  royal  Assyrian  was  a  matchless  effort  of  tragic 
art.  Majestic,  beautiful,  and  queenly,  her  unparalleled  powers 
literally  took  the  musical  world  by  storm,  and  "  electrified" 
the  audience.  The  scene  where  she  is  supposed  to  have  seen, 
and  to  imagine  herself  pursued  by  the  ghost  of  Ninus,  proved 
her  ability  as  a  tragic  actress :  she  burst  upon  the  stage  with 
a  shrill  musical  shriek,  exclaiming  "Lascia  mi,  lascia  mi  in 
pace !"  and  her  attitudes,  so  wild  yet  so  graceful,  her  look  of 
beautiful  horror,  were  a  triumjih  of  lyric  art.  And  the  scene 
in  which  Assur  and  Semiramis  mutually  taunt  each  other  with 
the   murder   of  Ninus,  and  Semiramis  blazes  forth  Avith  the 


ANGELICA   CATALANI.  193 

bravura,  "I  am  a  queen  and  a  wari-ior!"  was  magnificent. 
All  the  resources  of  her  art  were  lavished  upon  it :  she  dropped 
at  once  a  double  octave,  and  "  finally  astonished  all  ears  by 
running  the  chromatic  scale  up  and  down,  for  the  first  time 
within  the  memory  of  opera-goers.  This  achievement  sealed 
her  reputation.  It  was  then  new,  although  it  has  since  been 
repeated  to  satiety,  and  even  noted  down  as  an  obbligato  di- 
vision by  Rossini,  Meyerbeer,  and  others.  Rounds  of  applause 
rewarded  this  daring  exhibition  of  bad  taste."  Her  extraordi- 
nary voice  created  a  sensation  such  as  no  singer  had  ever  been 
able  to  make  before.  There  was  one  peculiar  undulating  tone 
which  was  admired  above  all :  it  was  like  that  of  a  musical 
glass.  The  note  which  vibrated  was  believed  to  be  liigher 
than  the  highest  note  on  the  piano-forte,  called  by  the  Italians 
"la  voce  di  testa,"  and  designated  by  English  amateurs 
"  double  falsetto."  Catalani,  who  was  the  only  one  known  to 
have  sung  this  note,  used  it  with  thrilling  eftect.  "  She  ap- 
peared to  make  a  sort  of  preparation  previous  to  its  utterance, 
and  never  approached  it  by  the  regular  scale.  It  began  with 
an  inconceivably  fine  tone,  which  gradually  swelled  both  in 
volume  and  power  till  it '  made  the  ears  vibrate  and  the  heart 
thrill !'  It  particularly  resembled  the  highest  note  of  the 
nightingale,  that  is  reiterated  each  time  more  intensely,  and 
which,  with  a  sort  of  vctriloquisra,  seems  scarcely  to  proceed 
from  the  same  bird  that  the  moment  before  poured  his  deli- 
cious warblings  at  an  interval  so  disjoined." 

Mr.  Frederick  Jones,  proprietor  of  the  Dublin  Theatre,  hear- 
ing of  the  extraordinary  popularity  of  Madame  Catalani,  came 
to  London  to  offer  her  an  engagement.  lie  made  up  a  com- 
pany, consisting  of  the  great  prima  donna,  Signori  3Iorelli, 
Rovedino,  and  Deville,  with  Michael  Kelly.  There  were  to 
be  two  operas  performed — Semiramide,  and  II  I^imatico  jJer 
la  Musica.  The  superb  Catalani  made  her  own  terms ;  or, 
rather,  M.  de  Vallebreque,  who  was  rather  fond  of  money, 
made  them  for  her:  she  was  to  have  a  clear  half  of  the  receipts 
of  each  night's  performance.  M.  de  Vallebreque,  though  rather 
good-natured,  and  not  particularly  bright,  was  perfectly  aware 
of  the  money-value  of  his  wife's  voice,  and  determined  to  use 
it  to  the  utmost.  Conversing  one  day  on  the  style  of  Mrs. 
Salmon's  singing,  he  exclaimed  with  energy,  "  Mrs.  Salmon, 
sare,  she  is  as  that" — extending  the  little  finger  of  his  left 
13  T 


194  QUEENS   OF   SONG. 

hand,  and  placing  his  thumb  at  tho  root  of  it;  "but  ma  femme! 
voila!  she  is  that!"  stretching  out  his  whole  arm  at  full  length, 
and  touching  the  shoulder-joint  with  the  other  hand.  ^M.  de 
Vallebreque,  however,  was  wholly  ignorant  of  music,  /ilA^imil^ 
^a^re^bt«d.'-t»»«W4i^!^sjgw^;sJa^^ 

nftrt°#viit ijn a liaaSn  one  morning  at  rehearsal  at  the  Italian  Opera 
in  Paris,  when  his  "  femme"  complained  of  the  piano.  "  I  can 
not  possibly  sing  to  that  piano;  I  shall  crack  my  voice:  the 
piano  is  absurdly  high."  "  Do  not  fret,  my  dear,"  interposed 
the  husband,  soothingly;  "it  shall  be  lowered  before  evening: 
I  will  attend  to  it  myself."  Evening  came,  and  the  house  was 
cruwded ;  but,  to  the  consternation  of  the  cantatrice,  the  piano- 
forte was  as  high  as  ever.  She  sang,  but  the  strain  was  ex- 
cessive and  painful ;  and  she  went  behind  the  scenes  in  a  very 
bad  humor.  "Really,  my  dear,"  said  her  lord,  "I  can  not  con- 
ceive of  the  piano  being  too  high;  I  had  the  carpenter  in  with 
his  saw,  and  made  him  take  six  inches  off  each  leg  in  my  pres- 
ence !" 

Madame  Catalani,  by  her  unfailing  good-humoi',  her  liberal- 
ity, and  benevolence  of  heart,  won  golden  opinions.  She  pos- 
sessed the  very  qualities  most  calculated  to  gain  popularity 
among  the  ardent  Irish,  being  not  only  charitable,  but  gay  and 
light-hearted,  and  ever  ready  to  take  advantage  of  the  enjoy- 
ments of  the  moment.  As  they  were  passing  through  Bangor, 
she  heard  a  Welsh  harp  for  the  first  time ;  an  old  blind  harper 
was  playing  in  the  kitchen  of  the  house  where  she  was  tem- 
porarily lodging.  She  listened  to  him  with  almost  infantine 
delight,  and  when  he  struck  up  a  Welsh  jig,  unable  to  restrain 
her  glee,  the  world-famed  prima  donna  started  up  before  all 
the  servants  and  danced  like  a  sprite,  until,  fairly  tired  out, 
and  panting  from  exhaustion,  she  threw  the  harper  two  guin- 
eas, and  quitted  the  kitchen. 

On  her  arrival  in  Dublin  she  was  received  with  a  real  Irish 
cead  millefailtha.  Crowds  assembled  at  the  Rotunda  to  hear 
her,  and,  although  the  prices  were  raised  to  half  a  guinea  for 
the  pit  and  boxes,  and  five  shillings  for  the  stalls,  there  was 
scarcely  standing-room,  and  she  was  feted  and  caressed  by  the 
best  society  in  Dublin.  These  concerts  were  led  by  Mr. 
Cooke,  a  musician  of  very  versatile  talent.  One  morning,  at 
rehearsal,  Madame  Catalani  was  so  ill  with  a  sick  headache 
that  she  could  not  go  through  her  song ;  and  as  the  accora- 


ANGELICA   CATALANI. 


07 


paniment  was  an  extremely  difficult  one,  sbe  1; 
have  it  rehearsed  by  the  baud.     Cooke  asW 
whicli  Madame  Catalan!  sang,  and  on  receivini 
one  side  of  his  music-desk,  having  on  the  otn 
part,  from  which  he  was  to  play ;  and,  to  tn 
ment  of  Madame  Catalani  and  all  present,  hd 
at  sight  correctly,  playing  at  the  same  time  nis  u ..  -  ^ 
the  violin  as  leader.     It  was  an  air  by  Portogallo,  the  indiffer- 
ent composer  whom  Madame  Catalani  had  brought  into  fash- 
ion, and  being  in  manuscript,  it  had  never  been  out  of  the  can- 
tatrice's  possession,  so  Cooke  could  not  have  seen  it  before. 

In  her  second  season  in  London,  Catalaui's  salary  was  raised 
by  her  own  demand  to  Jive  hundred  guineas;  and  it  was  cal- 
culated that  in  six  months  she  received  upward  of  ten  thou- 
sand pounds,  including  the  Opera,  festivals,  concerts,  and  other 
musical  performances. 

Her  brother  Guglielmo,*an  indifferent  performer  on  an  in- 
strument called  the  Corno  luglcse,  or  tenor  oboe,  was  brought 
pver  and  installed  in  the  Opera  band,  to  the  displacement  of 
Griesbach,  a  German,  who  had  for  several  years  filled  the  situ- 
ation with  great  ability.  Dissatisfaction  was  loudly  expressed 
in  the  orchestra,  and  the  manager,  in  an  appeal  to  the  public, 
justly  complained  that  "the  best  oboe-player  in  Europe  Avas 
to  be  turned  out  to  make  room  for  the  Avorst."  Griesbach, 
however,  condescended  to  play  second  oboe,  and  used  abso- 
lutely to  help  Guglielmo  in  difficult  passages. 

On  the  19th  of  January,  1808,  Catalani  appeared  in  a  new 
comic  opera,  Za  Frascatana.  She  sang  with  "  great  vigor," 
after  her  usual  manner,  and  in  the  "  favorite  song"  in  the  sec- 
ond act  she  was  twice  encored.  "This  double  encore  after- 
ward became  fi^shionable  with  regard  to  the  singers,  particular- 
ly at  the  English  Theatre,"  says  Parke  in  his  Miisiccd  Memoirs. 
As  none  of  the  celebrated  singers  who  had  preceded  her,  Mara, 
Banti,  Grassini,  or  Billington,  had  ever  received  a  similar  com- 
pliment, this  double  encore  appeared  incomprehensible  till  the 
fact  was  bruited  that  Catalani,  as  part  of  her  contract  for  that 
season,  had  stipulated  for  the  privilege  of  fifty  orders  nightly ! 
These  double  encores  soon  ceased  at  the  King's  Theatre,  but 
they  were  a  few  years  afterward  resuscitated  by  Braham  at 
Covent  Garden. 

On  the  26th  she  appeared  in  the  Dido  of  Paisiello,  in  which 


■^-•5^6  QUEENS    OF   SONG. 

opera  she  gained  as  much  applause  for  her  acting  as  for  her 
expressive  singing.  Nasolini's  serious  opera  of  La  Festa  di 
Iside  was  produced  for  her  first  benefit  on  April  21st.  In  this 
she  appeared  in  male  attire  as  Sesostris,  King  of  Egypt,  and 
the  receipts  of  the  house  were  one  thousand  pounds.  She  had 
a  second  benefit  on  June  25th,  when  the  entertainment  was  II 
Fanatico  per  la  Musica^  in  which  she  introduced,  for  the  first 
time,  Paisiello's  beautiful  air,  "Nel  cor  pii\  non  mi  sento," 
popularly  known  in  England  as  "  Hope  told  a  flattering  tale." 

Kemble  engaged  Catalani  in  1809,  the  terras  being,  it  was 
said,  four  thousand  pounds  and  two  free  benefits  for  the  sea- 
son ;  but  just  at  this  period  people  talked  loudly  against  giving 
opera-singers  such  enormous  salaries,  and  the  public  were  so 
enraged  that  he  was  obliged  to  cancel  her  engagement.    For 
eight  years,  however,  Catalani  remained  the  favorite  of  the 
English  public,  whatever  her  demands.     Her  blameless  do- 
mestic life,  and  her  generosity,  which  often  led  her  to  dispose      •■ 
in  charity  all,  or  a  large  portion  of,  the  sum  for  which  she  was 
engaged,  secured  for  her  the  love  of  all  with  whom  she  camg      , 
in  contact ;  Avhile  those  who  affected  to  question  her  motives      | 
crowded  to  hear  her  marvelous  voice  and  Avitness  her  unrival- 
ed personations.     An  outcry  was  occasionally  raised  at  the 
immense  sums  she  exacted ;  but  her  husband  was  more  to 
blame  in  the  matter :  he  regarded  managers  as  mere  bargain- 
ers for  so  much  marketable  talents.     In  making  a  contract  for 
her  second  season,  her  husband  demanded  a  sum  so  extrava- 
gant that  the  manager,  aghast,  declared  such  a  salary  given     » 
to  one  vocalist  would  absolutely  disable  him  from  procuring      \ 
any  other  performers  of  talent.     "  Talent !"  echoed  M.  de  Val- 
lebreque ;  "  have  you  not  Madame  Catalani  ?     What  would 
you  have  ?     If  you  want  a  company,  my  wife,  with  four  or  five 
puppets,  is  quite  sufl[icient !"    And,  certainly,  people  no  longer 
went  to  enjoy  the  Opera ;  they  Avent  to  see  and  hear  Catalani. 

During  the  season  of  1808,  therefore,  Madame  Catalani  had 
acted  with  performers  who  were  merely  puppets.  She  ap- 
peared in  operas  that  were  composed  expressly  for  her,  in 
which  the  part  for  tlie  prima  donna  was  elaborated  to  display 
all  her  best  points  ;  thus  she  stood  alone,  the  whole  attraction 
of  the  opera  being  centred  in  her.  She  certainly  sang  as  no 
singer  had  ever  sung  before,  with  a  redundant  splendor  which 
dazzled  and  bewildered.     Her  facility  in  inventing  graces  and 


ANGELICA   CATALANI. 


197 


ornaments  was  wonderful  in  spite  of  her  ignorance,  "  but  she 
took  more  satisfaction  in  producing  pleasure  through  surprise 
than  by  any  other  legitimate  method."  Trijjlets,  arpeggios, 
chromatic  passages,  were  run  through  with  a  dexterity  which 
astonished  her  hearers — a  dexterity  which  "  seemed  rather  the 
effect  of  the  natural  aptitude  of  genius  than  of  study  and  la- 
bor." She  was,  in  truth,  far  more  clever  in  running  through 
her  introduced  bits  of  brilliant  ornament  than  she  was  in  sing- 
ing the  roulades  set  down  for  her  by  the  composer.  So  far 
inferior  was  she  to  both  Mara  and  Billington  in  point  of  sci- 
ence, that  musical  performers  wondered  "  how  she  could  pos- 
sibly dare  so  much  and  succeed  so  well."  With  regard  to  her 
elocution  in  singing,  "  she  was  articulate,  forcible,  and  power- 
fid;  occasionally  light,  pleasing,  and  playful,  but  never  awfully 
grand  or  tenderly  touching  to  the  degree  that  the  art  may  be 
c:irried."  Her  marvelous  strains  seemed  to  distant  auditors 
poured  forth  with  the  fluent  ease  of  a  bird,  but  those  who 
were  near  saw  that  her  efforts  were  so  great  as  to  "call  into 
full  and  violent  action  the  muscular  powers  of  the  head,  throat, 
and  chest."  In  the  execution  of  rapid  passages  the  under  jaw 
was  in  a  continual  state  of  agitation,  "  in  a  manner,  too,  gen- 
erally thought  incompatible  with  the  production  of  pure  tone 
from  the  chest,  and  inconsistent  with  a  legitimate  execution. 
This  extreme  motion  was  also  visible  during  the  shake,  which 
Catalani  used  sparingly,  however,  and  with  little  effect." 

In  addition  to  appearing  at  the  Opera,  Catalani  sang  at  the 
Ancient  Concerts  and  other  musical  entertainments.  Her 
chief  defect  in  sacred  music  was  a  want  of  tenderness  and  pa- 
thos :  "she  sometimes  awed, but  she  never  warmed  or  melted 
the  heart."  She  could  not  give  to  the  sublime  music  of  the 
oratorio  the  impressive  meaning  which  Mara  imparted.  In 
such  pieces  as  "Holy, holy  Lord,"  and  "I  know  that  my  Re- 
deemer Hveth,"  she  never  awoke  feelings  of  devotion  in  the 
breast,  though  she  possessed  strong  religious  sentiments,  and 
never  entered  a  theatre  without  offering  up  a  prayer  for  her 
success.  This  habit  at  one  time  led  to  the  circulation  of  a 
spiteful  anecdote.  She  was  observed,  when  behind  the  scenes 
of  the  King's  Theatre,  before  making  her  entree  on  the  stage, 
to  repeat  to  herself  a  prayer  from  a  missal,  and  then,  giving 
the  book  to  her  attendant,  to  devoutly  make  the  sign  of  the 
cross  ere  presenting  herself  to  her  expectant  audience.    The 


V 


198  QUEENS    OF   SONG. 

volume,  it  was  declared,  was  lettered  on  the  back  Metastasio  ; 
but  the  story  contradicts  itself;  for  if  Catalan!  played  such  a 
farce,  she  would  not  have  allowed  herself  to  be  detected 
through  such  an  oversight. 

The  difference  between  her  style  and  that  of  her  two  great 
predecessors  was,  it  appears  to  us,  purely  mental.  The  mind 
and  the  emotions  exercise  a  powerful  influence  over  the  voice, 
however  unconsciously.  "It  is  the  soul  that  sings."  Listen 
to  a  child,  who  does  not  think  of  disguising  emotion  ;  the  cry 
of  joy,  the  whimper  of  disappointment,  or  the  scream  of  fear; 
what  a  variety,  nay,  Avhat  a  totally  different  tone  in  each.  It 
is  a  most  painful  efibrt  to  endeavor  to  sing  while  the  voice  is 
choked  with  tears,  and  it  is  delightful  to  carol  under  the  influ- 
ence of  happiness.  If  the  mind  is  discontented,  the  voice  nat- 
urally becomes  querulous ;  and  a  joyous  heart  will  indubita- 
bly testify  itself  in  a  cheerful  intonation ;  indeed,  there  are 
those  who  profess  to  read  character  by  the  tone  of  the  voice. 
The  secret  of  Catalani's  inferiority  to  her  great  rivals  was  to 
be  found  in  the  simple  fact  that  she  had  not  suffered. 
Mara  had  sufiered  deeply,  wounded  in  the  tenderest  feelings 
of  a  woman's  nature.  Billington  had  sufiered  in  a  lesser  de- 
gree, and  she  expressed  feeling  less  intensely.  But  Catalani! 
Petted  from  childhood,  adored  by  the  man  she  loved,  passion- 
ately beloved  by  her  children,  almost  worshiped  by  shouting 
multitudes,  every  whim  gratified  by  the  princes  and  great  ones 
of  the  earth,  and  her  days  passed  in  a  succession  of  triumphs, 
how  was  she  to  pour  forth  the  thrilling  tones  which  express 
musical  pathos  ?  To  have  the  power  of  drawing  tears,  we 
must  have  shed  them.  To  reach  the  heart,  to  awaken  the 
sympathies  of  a  crowd,  each  one  of  whom  has,  more  or  less, 
sufiered,  is  a  gift  acquired  only  by  the  sad  experience  which 
enables  the  mind  to  enter  into  the  spirit  of  ideal  sorrows. 

The  immense  volume  of  Catalani's  voice  was  not  liked  by 
some.  Queen  Charlotte,  being  asked  her  opinion,  replied  with 
German  emphasis, "  I  was  wishing  for  a  little  cotton  in  my 
ears  all  the  time."  The  predominating  impression  on  the 
mind  was  its  overpowering,  almost  terrific  loudness.  "  When 
rushing  i;p  the  scale,  every  note  seems  to  increase  in  force  till 
the  melody  is  lost,"  says  one  critic,  "and  the  ear  is  positively 
pained  by  the  strain  upon  its  auditory  nerve.  There  is  no 
terra  in  the  vocabulary  of  music  to  convey  an  adequate  idea 


ANGELICA   CATALANI.  199 

of  the  excess  of  loudness."  Some  wit  was  asked  if  he  would 
go  to  York  to  hear  her.  "  I  shall  hear  her  better  where  I  am," 
he  answered. 

By  1812  the  public  had  acquired  such  a  taste  for  the  music 
of  Mozart,  that  Catalan!  was  obliged  to  give  way  to  the  fash- 
ion, though  she  disliked  the  works  of  that  great  composer,  be- 
cause, when  singing  his  music,  she  was  forced  to  attend  to 
time,  and  was  kept  under  the  control  of  the  orchestra.  She 
appeared  in  two  of  his  operas — as  Vitellia  in  La  Clemenza  di 
Tito,  and  as  Susanna  in  Le  Nozze  di  Figaro,  and  sang  the  mu- 
sic of  both  parts  exquisitely.  Arch,  lively,  piquant  as  the 
waiting- woman  ;  lofty,  impassioned,  haughty,  and  grand,  as 
the  patrician  dame  of  ancient  Rome,  she  adapted  her  express- 
ive countenance  to  both:  in  serious  opera  she  was  majestic 
and  forcible ;  in  comic,  natural,  playful,  and  graceful.  Mrs. 
Dickons  performed  the  Countess  Almaviva,  and  in  some  scenes 
she  almost  rivaled  the  magnificent  Italian.  Tramraezzani,  the 
delightful  tenor,  who  had  arrived  in  England  a  few  seasons 
previously,  refused  the  part  of  Count  Almaviva,  because  he 
considered  it  beneath  his  dignity  to  appear  in  comic  opera! 
In  La  Clemenza  di  Tito,  the  part  of  Sesto,  written  for  a  so- 
prano voice,  was  taken  by  Trammezzani.  He  was  very  hand- 
some, and  had  a  voice  of  the  sweetest  quality,  "  of  that  rich, 
touching  Cremona  tone  peculiar  to  the  ItaUans,"  and  was, 
withal,  full  of  animation  and  feeling. 

In  1813,  the  last  season  of  her  regular  engagement  on  the 
Opera  stage,  Madame  Catalani  began  to  push  her  habit  of  de- 
viating from  the  beaten  track  of  art  to  a  pitch  of  folly  that 
was  unendurable  to  those  who  appreciated  pure  music.  Vari- 
ations for  the  violin  on  "  God  save  the  King,"  "  Rule  Britan- 
nia," "  Cease  your  funning,"  and  other  English  songs,  became 
her  chief  repertoire,  and  were  received  with  delight  and  amaze- 
ment by  the  general  public.  She  was  idolized  by  those  who 
cared  only  for  gratifying  the  idle  curiosity  of  the  moment. 
The  card  on  which  were  inscribed  the  words  of"  God  save  the 
King"  for  Madame  Catalani  to  sing  was  a  curiosity.  The  fol- 
lowing version  of  the  words  was  supposed  to  make  them  more 
easy  for  her  to  pronounce  them : 

"O  Lord  avar  God, 
Arais,  schaetar 
Is  cncmis,  and 


200  QUEENS    OF   SONG. 

Mece  them  fol. 
Confond  tear 
Politekse,  frosstre 
Tear  nevise  trix, 
On  George  avar  hopes 
We  fix,  God  save  te 
Kin." 

In  the  beginning  of  tlii^  season,  her  salary  having  fallen  into 
arrears,  her  husband  advised  her  not  to  appear  till  it  was  paid ; 
accordingly,  one  night — the  1st  of  June — she  chose  not  to  at- 
tend the  theatre.  The  audience,  exasperated,  raised  a  furious 
uproar,  which  was  long  remembered  as  one  of  the  most  extra- 
ordinary in  all  its  circumstances  that  had  ever  been  known. 
Enrico  IV.  had  been  announced ;  it  was  a  Saturday  night,  and 
the  house  was  crowded.  There  was  no  other  announcement 
except  one  on  the  bills,  stating  simply  that  Madame  Catalan! 
had  withdrawn  from  the  theatre.  The  opera  which  had  been 
substituted  having  been  gone  through  amid  a  hurricane  of 
clamor,  the  ballet  commenced,  amid  the  hisses  of  some,  the 
cries  of  many,  and  the  inattention  of  the  majority,  the  galler- 
ies alone  seeming  inclined  for  quiet.  The  pit  had  filled  at  half 
price,  and  the  riot  soon  became  portentous.  The  first  mutter- 
ings  of  the  coming  tempest  Avere  perceptible  in  the  shaking  of 
a  side-scene,  which  alarmed  a  child  ensconced  in  a  basket  of 
osiers  and  laurels,  and  who  jumped  out  and  ran  away.  The 
audience  at  once  became  aware  that  there  was  a  disturbance 
behind  the  scenes,  and  the  ballet-girls  looked  toward  the  scuf- 
fle with  affright.  The  guard  were  trying  to  prevent  some  per- 
sons from  rushing  on  to  the  stage,  which  in  an  instant  was  cov- 
ered with  gentlemen,  who,  from  the  general  mourning  for  the 
Duchess  of  Brunswick,  presented  a  very  sombre  asj^ect.  The 
dancers  immediately  withdrew,  the  utmost  confusion  ensued, 
and  the  curtain  was  dropped ;  but  some  of  the  invading  gen- 
tlemen came  before  it,  and  strutted  about,  flourishing  their 
canes,  and  waving  laurels,  the  spoliation  of  the  stage.  The  cur- 
tain, being  apparently  in  danger,  was  again  raised,  and  the  con- 
fusion became  frightful ;  cries  for  the  manager,  shrieks  of  ap- 
plause for  the  bold  invaders ;  cries  of  "  Off!  off!"  were  min- 
gled with  yells,  howls,  groans,  and  hisses.  At  length  a  person 
came  forward,  and  having  with  difficulty  obtained  a  temporary 
silence,  said  that  every  thing  should  be  done  to  satisfy  the  no- 
bility and  gentry ;  but  he  was  told  that  nothing  would  satisfy 


ANGELICA   CATALANI.  201 

them  but  the  appearance  of  Catalani.  He  then  retired,  and 
the  soldiers  made  their  way  ou  the  stage  and  formed  in  line, 
when  an  attack  was  instantly  directed  on  a  few  who  were  sep- 
arated from  their  comrades,  and  the  rioters  endeavored  to 
wrest  their  arms  from  them.  The  most  fatal  results  were 
feared,  but  the  forbearance  of  the  soldiers  was  most  praise- 
worthy. The  gentlemen  seized  the  muskets,  drew  out  and 
flourished  the  bayonets,  and  then  flung  the  fire-arms  into  the 
orchestra  among  the  lamps  and  desks.  The  soldiers  were  then 
withdrawn.  The  musicians  had  fled  early  in  the  aff"ray,  with 
every  violin,  bassoon,  and  trombone,  and  all  the  music-books. 
A  ludicrous  scene  ensued  :  the  valiant  beaux  were  all  lounging 
over  the  side-boxes,  shaking  hands  with  the  ladies,  or  bowing 
to  those  above  who  showed  their  approbation.  First  Mr.  Kin- 
naird  and  then  John  Kemble  came  forward  to  make  speeches, 
which  were  hailed  with  ironical  plaudits;  and  at  last  the  fa- 
mous Romeo  Coates  started  up  and  made  one  of  his  absurd 
orations,  which  dispersed  the  audience. 

Toward  the  close  of  this  season  several  good  singers  ap- 
peared ;  but  Catalani's  insatiate  desire  to  be  the  alpha  and 
omega  of  the  operatic  world  induced  her  to  behave  in  such  an 
intolerable  manner  toward  them  that  half  the  company  quitted 
the  King's  Theatre,  and  established  themselves  at  the  Pan- 
theon, which  had  been  rebuilt.  Signora  Bertinotti,  Signora 
Colliui,  tlie  two  Cauvinis,  the  aged  Morelli,  and  a  few  others, 
formed  the  troupe,  with  Miss  Stephens,  the  charming  English 
debutante.  Unfortunately  the  license  of  the  place  was  only 
for  intermezzos,  or  operas  of  one  act,  and  dancing  without  bal- 
lets of  action,  therefore  the  performances  did  not  prove  very 
attractive.  IMoreover,  a  report  was  industriously  circulated 
and  published  in  the  newspapers,  with  the  attestation  of  an  ar- 
chitect, that  the  external  walls,  shaken  by  fire,  were  unequal  to 
supporting  the  new  roof  which  had  been  erected  upon  them, 
and  that  the  building  was  unsafe.  The  entertainments  conse- 
quently ceased,  and  the  company  dispersed. 

The  public  were  dissatisfied  with  having  Catalani  and  noth- 
ing but  Catalani ;  but  the  managers  were  unable,  because  of 
her  exorbitant  demands  and  her  unwarrantable  jealousy,  to  en- 
gage any  other  vocalists.  She  offered  to  purchase  the  theatre, 
intending  to  become  thus  sole  proprietor,  sole  manager,  and 
sole  performer ;  but  she  fortunately  foiled  in  this,  for  she  would 

12 


202  QUEENS    OF    SONG. 

probably  have  finished  by  becoming  sole  auditor.  Her  rela- 
tions with  tbe  director  became  each  day  more  embittered,  and. 
she  feared  to  disgust  the  public  altogether ;  she  therefore  re- 
paired to  Paris,  to  join  in  the  festivities  consequent  on  the  en- 
try of  the  Alhes,  having  realized  fifty  thousand  pounds. 

On  arriving  in  Paris  in  1814,  she  found  herself  supremely 
popular,  on  account  of  her  acknowledged  antipathy  to  Napo- 
leon and  her  sympathy  with  the  king.  On  the  4th  of  Febru- 
ary, 1815,  she  gave  a  grand  concert  at  the  Opera  House  for  the 
benefit  of  the  poor.  During  the  Hundred  Days  she  followed 
Louis  XVHI.  to  Ghent :  she  had  become  known  to  the  king 
in  England,  and  now  made  her  house  at  Ghent  a  resort  for  the 
most  illustrious  emigres.  After  a  second  sojourn  in  Paris,  she 
made  a  tour  through  Holland  and  Belgium.  On  her  return  to 
Paris,  Louis  XVHI.,  flattered  by  the  devotion  Madame  Cata- 
lani  always  professed  for  his  cause,  bestowed  on  her  the  priv- 
ilege of  the  Italian  theatre,  with  a  grant  of  160,000  francs.  She 
established  her  company  in  the  Salle  Favart,  and  commenced 
operations  with  vigor ;  but  two  things  militated  against  her 
success  as  a  manager — her  own  desire  for  supi'eme  power,  and 
her  husband's  greed  of  money :  she  must  reign  alone,  without 
a  rival.  The  consequence  was  that  she  not  only  found  herself 
,  obliged  to  precipitately  relinquish  her  dangerous  post,  but  lost 
/  500,000  francs  of  her  fortune,  and  also  the  good  graces  of  the 
Parisians. 

With  the  hope  of  retrieving  her  losses,  she  commenced  a 
tour  through  Europe.  In  1816  she  gave  seven  concerts  in 
Berlin,  the  price  of  the  tickets  being  three  thalers.  She  gave 
an  eighth  in  the  church,  for  the  poor,  tickets  being  one  thaler 
and  a  half  Every  concert  was  crowded ;  the  building  was 
so  full  that  there  was  scarce  standing-room,  and  the  directors 
received  more  than  5000  thalers.  In  1817  she  visited  Venice, 
the  scene  of  her  earliest  triumphs ;  indeed,  she  sang  in  almost 
every  town  on  the  Continent,  accompanied  by  her  husband, 
her  pupil  Miss  Corri,  and  a  very  bad  tenor  named  Bolaffi. 
Every  where  she  was  received  with  the  most  extraordinary 
delight ;  she  was  petted  by  princes  of  the  blood  royal,  and 
loaded  with  gorgeous  presents,  jewels,  medals,  and  testimo- 
nials. The  King  of  Prussia  wrote  her  an  autograph  letter  of 
compliment,  accompanied  by  the  grand  medal  of  the  Academy; 
the  Emperor  of  Austria  presented  her  with  a  superb  ornament 


ANGELICA  CATALANI.  203 

of  opals  and  diamonds ;  while  the  magistracy  of  Vienna,  in 
Ipken  of  their  gratitude  for  her  munificence  to  the  charitable 
institutions  of  that  capital,  struck  a  medal  in  her  honor.  Even 
sovereign  princes  paid  her  the  most  obsequious  attentions :  the 
Grand-Duke  of  Darmstadt  took  his  seat  in  the  orchestra  of  the 
theatre  as  leader  of  the  band  in  honor  of  her  genius,  and  her 
name  was  among  the  last  words  uttered  by  the  dying  King 
of  Wirtemberg.  Fabulous  sums  were  paid  for  her  perform- 
ances, and  crowds  assembled  to  listen  to  her  marvelous,  though 
now  unmeaning  exhibitions.  She  had  such  an  overweening 
idea  of  her  own  gifts,  that  her  self-conceit  was  laughable.  When 
she  visited  Hamburg  for  the  first  time  in  1819,  M.  Schevenke, 
the  chief  musician  of  that  city,  criticized  her  vocal  feats  with 
great  severity ;  Madame  Catalani,  on  being  told  of  this,  shrug- 
ged her  shoulders,  and  called  him  "  an  impious  man,"  "  For," 
she  said,  with  a  droll  naivete,  "  when  God  has  given  to  a  mor- 
tal so  extraordinary  a  talent  as  I  possess,  people  ought  to  ap- 
plaud and  hoiior  it  as  a  miracle :  it  is  profane  to  depreciate  the 
gifts  of  Heaven !" 

In  private  society  she  was  cordially  welcomed,  and  acquitted 
herself  vei'y  well ;  but  occasionally  her  ignorance  of  what  every 
bod-v  else  was  intimate  with,  led  her  into  somewhat  ludicrous 
predicaments.  Dining  one  evening  at  the  court  of  Weimar, 
she  was  seated  beside  the  great  poet  Goethe,  as  a  mark  of  re- 
spect on  the  part  of  her  royal  host.  Knowing  nothing  of 
Goethe,  but  remarking  his  majestic  appearance  and  the  uni- 
versal attention  which  he  received,  she  inquired  carelessly  of 
the  gentleman  on  the  other  side  what  was  his  name.  "The 
celebrated  Goethe,  raadame,"  was  the  reply.  "  Pray,  on  what 
instrument  does  he  play?"  "He  is  no  performer,  madame — 
he  is  the  renowned  author  of  TFeri'e?'."  "  Oh  yes,  yes,  I  remem- 
ber," she  said ;  then  turning  to  the  venerable  poet,  she  ad- 
dressed him  in  her  vivacious  manner.  "Ah  !  sir,  what  an  ad- 
mirer I  am  ofWe)'terP^  Flattered  by  her  evident  sincerity 
and  ardor,  the  poet  bowed  profoundly.  "I  never,"  continued 
she,  in  the  same  lively  strain, "  I  never  read  any  thing  half  so 
laughable  in  all  my  life.  What  a  capital  farce  it  is,  sir  !"  The 
poet,  astounded,  could  scarcely  believe  the  evidence  of  his  eai'S. 
"  77ie  Sorrows  qfWerter  a  farce !"  he  murmured,  faintly.  "  Oh 
yes,  never  was  any  thing  so  exquisitely  ridiculous,"  rejoined 
Catalani,  with  a  ringing  burst  of  laughter ;  for  she  remember- 


204  QUEENS    OF   SONG. 

ed  the  absurd  parody  ofWerter,  which  had  been  performed  at 
one  of  the  mmor  theatres  of  Paris,  and  in  which  the  sentiment|f 
of  Goethe's  work  had  been  turned  into  the  most  ludicrous  bur- 
lesque. Mortified  and  disconcerted,  jjoor  Goethe  did  u6t  re- 
cover himself  the  entire  evening,  and  Catalan!  was  regarded 
with  less  respect  during  the  remainder  of  her  stay  at  the  court 
ofWeimar. 

In  August,  1817,  she  reappeared  in  Paris  in  II  Fanatico  per 
la  Ifusica,  at  the  Theatre  Italien,  and  was  warmly  welcomed. 
All  the  boxes  were  retained  long  before  the  night  of  her  rentree, 
the  I'Zth.  She  appeared  subsequently  in  II  Matrimonio  Se- 
greto,  Cosl  fan  Tutte,  Le  Cantatrici  Villane,  II  3Iatrimonio 
per  Maggiro^  Semiramis  (with  Garcia,  Mdlle.  Berajter,  and 
BenelIi),i'Zto?mwa  inAlgieri,  La  /Sposa  Stravagante  (in  which 
she  performed  Lindora),  la  Principessa  in  Gampagno^  and 
Mithridate^  in  which  last  she  performed  Monime,  and  Tram- 
mezzani  Mithridates.  There  were  two  grand  concerts  during 
the  season  :  the  first  in  November,  when  Catalani  sang  "  Gra- 
tias  agimus,"  accompanied  on  the  clarionet  by  M.Dacosta,  and 
two  airs  by  Pucitta  and  Mozart ;  the  second  took  place  at  the 
close  of  the  season,  in  December. 

Madame  Catalani  returned  to  England  in  1821,  and  in  the 
winter  of  1821-22  made  a  tour  through  the  country,  visiting 
Bath,  Bristol,  Glasgow,  Edinburgh,  York,  and  other  places. 
At  Bath  she  gained  nearly  five  hundred  pounds,  while  the  con- 
ductor, Mr.  Ashe,  was  a  loser  of  two  hundred ;  at  Bristol  she 
made  the  same,  the  conductor  just  escaping  loss;  at  Glasgow 
the  receipts  were  £2300,  and  the  payments  £2100,  of  which 
Catalani  received  £760,  Mrs.  Salmon,  £260,  Braham,  £250 ;  so 
that,  if  no  minor  expenses  were  defrayed,  there  remained  only 
£200  for  the  charity  in  behalf  of  which  the  concerts  were  held. 
In  1822  Catalani  undertook  a  series  of  concerts,  which  were  at- 
tended by  unpward  of  a  thousand  persons,  the  orchestra  being 
itself  always  crowded  with  auditors.  At  these  concerts  she 
introduced  a  splendid  song,  "  Delia  superba  Roma,"  by  the 
Marquis  Sampieri,  "  which  electrified  the  audience."  At  a  re- 
hearsal at  the  Argyll  Rooms,  the  younger  Linley  was  so  aston- 
ished by  the  grandeur  with  which  this  song  burst  from  her 
lips,  that  he  forgot  his  own  part,  and  played  a  wrong  note ; 
Catalani  turned  and  made  some  severe  remark  to  him,  when, 
overcome  by  his  emotions,  he  fell  from  his  seat  in  a  swoon. 


ANGELICA   CATALANI.  205 

After  her  English  and  Scottish  tour  she  went  again  on  the 
Continent.  At  St.  Petersburg,  in  1823,  slie  was  unprecedent- 
edly  popular,  and  realized  about  fifteen  thousand  guineas  in 
four  months.  There  being  no  concert-room  sufficiently  large 
to  accommodate  the  crowds  that  flocked  to  hear  her,  she  chose 
the  public  Exchange  for  the  scene  of  her  concluding  concert, 
when  there  were  more  than  four  thousand  persons  present. 
The  large  receipts  of  that  evening  were  devoted  by  her  to  re- 
lieving two  hundred  unfortunate  families  in  Russia;  for  this, 
Alexander  thanked  her  before  his  court,  he  and  the  empress 
embraced  her  at  parting,  and  loaded  her  with  regal  ornaments, 
among  which  a  girdle  of  diamonds  was  conspicuous. 

Madame  Catalani  was  engaged  by  Mr.  AVaters  for  the  King's 
Theatre  in  1824  for  a  certain  number  of  nights.  She  made  her 
reappearance  in  Mayer's  comic  opera  II  Fanatico  per  la  Mu- 
seca,  converted  into  a  mere  vehicle  for  the  display  of  her  vocal 
tours  deforce^  almost  all  the  music  being  mutilated  to  make 
room  for  her  show  pieces.  She  did  not  think  it  worth  while 
to  keep  up  even  a  pretense  of  sustaining  a  part,  but  walked  on 
and  off  the  stage,  hardly  acknowledging  the  presence  of  those 
who  had  the  misfortune  to  sing  with  her.  A  crowded  audi- 
ence assembled  to  welcome  her,  and  so  touched  was  she  by  the 
ovation  that  she  could  not  conceal  her  emotion.  It  was  no- 
ticed that  there  was  a  "  slight  embarrassment  and  incertitude" 
in  her  manner,  Avhich  was  attributed  to  her  having  for  so  long 
a  time  discontinued  to  appear  in  opera ;  and  it  was  not  till  the 
second  night  of  her  appeai'ance  that  she  recovered  her  self-pos- 
session, when  she  surpassed  herself  in  the  transcendent  power 
of  her  performance.  Mesdames  Caradori  and  Ronzi  de  Begnis 
performed  with  her  in  this  opera,  Avith  Curioni  and  Signer  de 
Begnis. 

It  was  agreed  that  she  had  wonderfully  improved  in  one  re- 
spect since  she  last  sung  in  opera:  her  voice  was  more  re- 
splendent than  ever ;  its  tones  were  so  powerful  that  the  hear- 
er needed  to  be  at  a  distance  to  enjoy  them.  But,  alas !  in 
that  very  power  were  tokens  of  the  destroying  hand  of  time ; 
the  "  fragrance"  of  her  tone,  as  one  critic  termed  it,  had  in  some 
degree  evaporated.  It  was  compared  to  a  copper-gilt  vessel 
from  which  some  of  the  gilding  has  worn  off — or,  rather,  it  was 
like  a  piano-forte,  the  hammers  of  which  are  grown  hard  by 
use.    In  her  appearance,  too,  she  had  altered,  but  fiivorably  : 


206  QUEENS    OF   SONG. 

always,  the  handsomest  woman  in  Europe,  she  had  become,  by 
an  accession  of  embonpoint,  more  beautiful  and  majestic.  On 
the  stage  and  in  society,  her  popularity  for  the  time  was  un- 
bounded ;  and  she  achieved  a  little  triumph  about  this  period 
which  must  have  been  highly  gratifying  to  her,  satiated  as  she 
was  by  the  plaudits  of  the  greatest  in  the  land.  When  Cap- 
tain Montague  was  cruising  off  Brighton,  she  was  invited,  with 
some  other  ladies,  to  a  fete  on  board  his  frigate,  and  the  ladies 
were  escorted  on  board  by  the  captain  in  a  boat  manned  by 
twenty  men.  On  the  way  to  the  ship  the  prima  donna  sud- 
denly burst  forth  with  her  pet  song,  "Rule  Britannia."  The 
sailors,  taken  by  surprise,  rested  on  their  oars  to  listen,  and 
tears  sprang  to  the  eyes  of  more  than  one  weather-beaten  old 
tar.  "  You  see,  raadame,"  said  the  captain, "  the  effect  this  fa- 
vorite air  has  upon  these  brave  men,  when  sung  by  the  finest 
voice  in  the  world,  .  I  have  been  in  many  victorious  battles, 
but  never  felt  any  excitement  equal  to  this."  On  arriving  on 
board,  the  sailors  entreated  her  to  sing  the  air  once  more,  a 
request  which  she  readily  complied  with,  and  the  gallant  tars, 
on  her  quitting  the  ship  in  the  evening,  cheered  her  until  she 
reached  the  shore. 

At  first  the  public  applauded  her  to  the  echo  ;  but  soon  her 
hearers  began  to  weary  of  the  reiterated  extravagances  of  her 
style  of  singing,  and  the  enthusiasm  at  length  died  out.  Night 
after  night  the  audience  grew  thinner  at  the  Opera  House,  and 
at  last  she  retreated  from  the  stage,  and  restricted  herself  to 
the  concert-room,  where  she  sought  only  to  make  a  display  of 
vocal  feats.  Her  deportment  was  changed  equally  with  her 
style  and  her  person ;  all  was  exaggeration  ;  her  style  had  be- 
come a  caricature  of  its  former  grandeur.  "When  she  begins 
one  of  the  interminable  roulades  up  the  scale,"  says  a  writer 
in  Knight's  Quarterly  Magazine,  "  she  gradually  raises  her 
body,  which  she  had  before  stooped  to  almost  a  level  with  the 
ground,  until,  having  won  her  way  with  a  quivering  lip  and 
chattering  chin  to  the  very  topmost  note,  she  tosses  back  her 
head  and  all  its  nodding  feathers  with  an  air  of  triumph  ;  then 
suddenly  falls  to  a  note  two  octaves  and  a  half  lower  with  in- 
credible aplomb,  and  smiles  like  a  victorious  Amazon  over  a 
conquered  enemy."  A  throng  of  flatterers  joined  in  encoura- 
ging her  in  all  her  defects.  "  No  sooner  does  Catalani  quit  the 
orchestra,"  says  the  same  writer,  "  than  she  is  beset  by  a  host 


ANGELICA   CATALANI.  207 

of  foreign  sycophants,  who  load  her  with  exaggerated  praise. 
I  Avas  present  at  a  scene  of  this  kind  in  the  refreshment-room 
at  Bath,  and  heard  reiterated  on  all  sides, 'Ah!  madame,  la 
derniere  fois  toujours  la  meilleure !'  Thus  is  poor  Madame 
Catalaui  led  to  strive  to  excel  herself  every  time  she  sings,  un- 
til she  exposes  herself  to  the  ridicule  most  pi'obahly  of  those 
very  flatterers ;  for  I  hftve  heard  that  on  the  Continent  she  is 
mimicked  by  a  man  dressed  in  female  attire,  who  represents, 
by  extravagant  terms  and  gestures,  Madame  Catalani  surpass- 
ing  herself"*  Occasionally,  however,  she  showed  that  her 
genius  had  not  forsaken  her.  Her  singing  of  Luther's  Hymn  is 
thus  described  by  an  appreciative  listener.  "  She  admits  in  this 
grandly  simple  composition  no  ornament  whatever  but  a  pure 
shake  at  the  conclusion.  The  majesty  of  her  sustained  tones, 
so  rich,  so  ample  as  not  only  to  fill,  but  overflow  the  cathedral 
where  I  heard  her — the  solemnity  of  her  manner,  and  the  St. 
Cecilia-like  expression  of  her  raised  eyes  and  rapt  countenance, 
produced  a  thrilling  efiect  through  the  miited  medium  of  sight 
and  hearing.  Whoever  has  heard  Catalani  sing  this,  accom- 
panied by  Schmidt  on  the  trumpet,  has  heard  the  utmost  that 
music  can  do.  Then  in  the  succeeding  chorus,  when  the  same 
awful  words,  '  The  trumpet  sounds ;  the  graves  restore  the 
dead  which  they  contained  before,'  are  repeated  by  the  whole 
choral  strength,  her  voice,  piercing  thi-ough  the  clang  of  in- 
struments and  the  burst  of  other  voices,  is  heard  as  distinctly 
as  if  it  were  alone !  During  the  encore  I  found  my  way  to  the 
top  of  a  tower  on  the  outside  of  the  cathedral,  and  could  still 
distinguish  her  wonderful  voice." 

But  this  was  a  rare  exception.  Her  excessive  love  of  orna- 
ment proved  a  fatal  stumbling-block,  and  ruined  the  beauty 
of  this  matchless  voice.  She  cared  for  no  simple  air.  Her 
delight  was  to  take  a  bold  and  spirited  piece,  such  as  "  Non 
pill  andrai,"  even  when  written  for  a  bass  voice,  in  which  she 
could  bear  down  and  overpower  by  sheer  force  of  lungs  the 
brazen  instruments  of  the  orchestra,  amid  rapturous  thunders 

*  In  1825  a  German  singer  named  Keller  created  a  great  sensation  at 
Dresden  in  the  part  of  "Die  Falsche  Katalani"  (the  False  Catalani),  where- 
in his  extraordinary  falsetto  was  called  most  effectually  into  plav  in  the  im- 
itation of  the  distinguished  Italian.  The  manner  in  which  he  imitated  the 
various  styles  of  Italian  singing,  and  especially  the  laborious  fidelity  with 
which  he  gave  the  well-known  variations  by  Rode  as  executed  by  Catalani, 
was  absolutely  marvelous. 


208  QUEENS    OF    SONG. 

of  applause.  She  preferred  the  music  of  tlie  most  inferior  com- 
posers, written  expressly  for  her,  to  the  most  exquisite  pro- 
ductions of  the  greatest  masters,  which  w^as  greatly  to  be  re- 
gretted, for  all  agreed  that  she  could  have  become  a  perfect 
performer  had  her  noble  gifts  been  guided  by  sound  taste  and 
judgment.  She  had  a  peculiar  facility  in  running  chromatic 
passages,  placing  on  each  note  a  trill  which  scintillated  like  a 
diamond  in  limpid  water ;  she  excelled  in  effects  of  contrast — 
now  loud  as  an  organ,  then  soft  and  penetrating  as  the  lowest 
notes  of  the  nightingale  ;  and  her  skill  in  "jumping"  over  tw^o 
octaves  at  once,  her  rapidity  in  divisions,  and  the  almost  super- 
natural volume  of  tone  which  her  throat  was  capable  of  throw- 
ing forth,  created  an  increasing  w'onder.  Her  fantastical  luxu- 
riance and  redundancy,  her  reckless  daring,  her  defiance  of  all 
rules,  disgusted  connoisseurs  as  much  as  it  astounded  and 
charmed  the  multitude.  In  Paris,  the  epigrams  of  the  day 
designated  her  voice  "I'instrument  Catalani."  "Whenever  I 
hear  such  an  outrageous  display  of  execution,"  said  Mount 
Edgecumbe,  "  I  never  fail  to  recollect,  and  cordially  join  in, 
the  opinion  of  a  late  noble  statesman,  more  famous  for  his  wit 
than  for  his  love  of  music,  who,  hearing  a  remark  on  the  ex- 
treme difficulty  of  some  performance,  observed  that  he  wished 
that  it  was  impossible."  But,  unfortunately  for  the  soundness 
of  his  musical  taste,  this  nobleman  (Lord  North)  was  the  in- 
dividual who,  when  asked  why  he  did  not  subscribe  to  the 
Ancient  Concerts,  and  reminded  that  his  brother,  the  Bishop 
of  Winchester,  did,  replied,  "  Oh,  if  I  was  as  deaf  as  my  broth- 
er, I  would  subscribe  too." 

Although  she  began  to  give  dissatisfaction  to  the  critics,  the 
public  were  as  faithful  as  ever  to  Catalani,  and  she  made  enor- 
mous sums.  But  she  was  very  generous  in  affording  help  to 
others.  At  a  concert  given  by  Mr.  Loder,  of  Bath,  a  most 
talented  musician,  distinguished  for  his  skill  as  a  violinist  and 
a  leader,  Madame  Catalani  sang  under  an  engagement  at  a 
large  fee,  and  the  concert  Avas  completely  successful ;  but  she 
refused  to  accept  the  sum  stipulated  for,  relinquishing  it  as  a 
mark  of  her  esteem  for  the  ability  and  general  merit  of  the 
worthy  conductor.  When  she  performed  for  a  benefit,  she 
would  frequently  return  the  whole,  or  a  large  portion,  of  the 
amount  for  which  she  was  engaged,  and  she  was  very  liberal 
toward  public  charities.     On  the  occasion  of  a  great  musical 


ANGELICA   CATALANI.  209 

performance  for  the  benefit  of  the  Westminster  Hospital  in 
1821,  she  was  solicited  to  contribute  her  services,  but  replied 
that,  were  she  to  do  so,  she  would  injure  her  own  concerts : 
yet,  on  the  day  of  her  first  concert,  she  transmitted  to  the  com- 
mittee, as  a  gift,  about  three  hundred  pounds,  the  proceeds  of 
her  performance.  She  sang  for  Kelly  on  one  occasion,  but  did 
not  realize  much  for  him,  as  the  crowd  was  so  great  that  the 
doors  were  broken  down  and  the  pit  crammed  to  suffocation 
with  non-paying  visitors :  the  return  in  money  was  only  twen- 
ty-five pounds.  The  unlucky  beueficiaire  made  a  request  that 
the  price  of  admission  should  be  sent  to  the  box-ofiice  the  next 
day  by  those  who  entered  without  paying,  but  not  a  single 
person  responded  to  this  appeal. 

In  May,  1824,  her  own  concerts  drew  very  large  audiences: 
curiosity,  and  a  rumor  that  the  concerts  would  not  exceed 
tliree  or  four,  and  that  after  their  termination  the  enchantress 
would  be  heard  no  more,  conduced  to  render  the  sale  of  tickets 
rapid:  the  first  four  nights  there  were  more  than  a  thousand 
sold.  On  the  first  night  the  audience  began  to  assemble  more 
than  an  hour  before  the  doors  Avere  open,  and  the  room  filled 
in  two  minutes,  the  orchestra  even  being  filled  with  ladies  and 
gentlemen,  the  musicians  retiring  behind.  Each  night  Ma- 
dame, Catalan!  sang  four  songs  in  various  styles.  At  the  end 
of  February,  1825,  she  commenced  a  series  of  fortnightly  con- 
certs, conducted  by  Mr.  P.  Cianchettini.  The  first  was  but 
thinly  attended,  but  afterward  the  Argyll  Rooms  were  crowd- 
ed to  excess.  Mrs.  Salmon  and  Mr.  Sapio  were  the  principal 
coadjutors,  with  the  occasional  assistance  of  M.  Begrez  and 
other  performers ;  and  one  evening  Signor  Pistrucci,  the  cele- 
brated iniprovisatore,  appeared.  Catalani  herself  sang  six 
pieces  every  evening,  comprehending  all  stales,  from  " Ilonie, 
sweet  home,"  and  "Rule  Britannia,"  to  "Gratias  agimus," 
and  Mr.  Cianchettini's  Mazurka. 

In  1825  she  visited  Paris,  and  appeared  in  the  &alU  Clery ; 
but  the  taste  of  the  Parisians  had  been  purified  by  Fodor  and 
Pasta,  and  they  did  not  care  any  longer  for  Catalani.  In 
other  cities  on  the  Continent  she  was  received  with  more  fa- 
vor. In  1827,  Charles  John  of  Sweden  conducted  her  through 
the  Royal  Museum  at  Stockholm  himself,  Avhen  two  magnifi- 
cent vases  of  porphyry  attracted  her  notice  and  admiration; 
some  time  after,  a  similar  pair  was  forwarded  to  her  at  Paris 
U 


210  QUEENS   OE   SONG. 

by  the  gallant  prince,  who  deemed  twenty  thousand  francs  a 
not  too  costly  tribute  to  the  enchanting  singer.  In  the  sum- 
mer of  1827  she  sang  in  Berlin,  where  she  did  not  hesitate  to 
appear  in  rivalry  with  the  young  and  fresh  vocalist  Sontag. 

Returning  to  England  in  the  summer  of  that  year,  she  was 
engaged  at  extravagant  salaries  to  sing  at  various  musical  fes- 
tivals. At  Derby  there  was  much  apprehension  as  to  the 
state  of  her  voice  and  execution,  as,  considering  the  sum  she 
received,  her  engagement  there  was  looked  on  as  a  failure. 
And  it  was  found  that  "  the  liquidity  of  her  tone  had  given 
way  to  the  force  of  effort."  Her  evening  songs  were  gener- 
ally miserable  effusions,  to  which,  wisely,  no  composer's  name 
was  affixed,  and  her  sacred  singing  was  totally  unlike  what  it 
had  been :  in  "  Holy,  holy  Lord,"  she  wandered  far  from  the 
pitch,  and  disfigured  the  Messiah  by  the  introduction  of 
"Gratias  agimus."  At  York  she  was  offered  the  sum  of  six 
hundred  guineas  for  her  services,  or  rather  for  the  sake  of  her 
name,  for  she  Avas  unable  to  maintain  her  reputation. 

The  critics  dropped  many  hints,  urging  that  it  would  be  the 
most  judicious,  as  well  as  the  most  dignified  course,  to  retire ; 
and  she  did  retire  altogether  in  1831,  and  went  to  reside  on  a 
noble  estate  near  the  Lago  di  Como,  where  she  built  a  beauti- 
ful villa.  Three  children,  two  of  whom  were  born  in  England, 
and  one  in  Paris,  had  blessed  the  happy  union  of  Angelica  and 
her  "  bel  uffiziale."  Her  daughter  (Madame  Vivie)  and  her 
eldest  son,  who  adored  their  mother,  lived  at  home ;  the  sec- 
ond son,  being  in  the  army,  was  very  much  with  his  regiment: 
this  young  man  afterward  became  equerry  to  Napoleon  HI. 

Madame  Catalani  founded,  in  the  vicinity  of  her  home,  a 
school  of  gratuitous  instruction  in  singing  for  young  girls, 
where  they  had  lodging,  board,  and  clothing,  and  at  the  end 
of  a  certain  time  of  instruction  engagements  were  obtained  for 
the  pupils.  One  of  the  stipulations  exacted  of  the  scholars 
was  rather  curious — that  on  quitting  the  establishment  at  the 
expiration  of  their  term  they  should  add  to  their  family  name 
that  of  Catalani.  The  first  singer  among  them  who  became 
known  was  Signora  Maselli-Catalani,  who  appeared  at  Paris. 

Some  years  after  the  retirement  of  the  great  songstress, 
Mrs,  Trollope,  then  on  a  tour  through  Italy,  visited  her. 
"  Nothing  could  be  more  amiable  than  the  reception  she  gave 
us."     She  expressed  a  great  admiration  and  love  for  the  En- 


ANGELICA   CATALANI.  '     211 

glish.  Her  beauty  was  little  injured.  "Her  eyes  and  teeth 
are  still  magnificent,"  says  Mrs.  Trollope,  "  and  I  am  told  that 
when  seen  in  evening  full  dress  by  candle-light,  no  stranger 
can  see  her  for  the  first  time  without  inquiring  who  that 
charming-looking  woman  is."  Mrs.  Trollope  hinted  to  Mdlle. 
de  Vallebreque  that  she  would  like  to  hear  her  mother  sing ; 
ancLin  a  moment  Madame  Catalani  was  at  the  piano,  smiling  at 
the  whispered  request  from  her  daughter.  "  I  know  not  what 
it  was  she  sang,  but  scarcely  had  she  permitted  her  voice  to 
swell  into  one  of  those  bravura  passages,  of  which  her  execu- 
tion was  so  very  peculiar  and  so  perfectly  unequaled,  than  I 
felt  as  if  some  magic  process  was  being  performed  ujDon  me, 
which  took  me  back  again  to  something — I  know  not  what  to 
call  it — which  I  had  neither  heard  nor  felt  for  nearly  twenty 
years.  Involuntarily,  unconsciously,  my  eyes  filled  with  teai*s, 
and  I  felt  as  much  embarrassed  as  a  young  lady  of  fifteen 
might  be,  who  suddenly  found  herself  in  the  act  of  betraying 
emotions  which  she  was  far  indeed  from  wishing  to  display." 
WilHam  Gardiner  visited  Madame  Catalani  in  1846.  "I  was 
surprised  at  the  vigor  of  Madame  Catalani,"  he  says,  "  and 
how  little  she  was  altered  since  I  saw  her  at  Derby  in  1828. 
I  paid  her  a  compliment  upon  her  good  looks.  '  Ab !'  said 
she, '  I'm  grown  old  and  ugly.'  I  would  not  allow  it.  '  Why, 
man,'  she  said,  'I'm  sixty-six !'  She  has  lost  none  of  that  com- 
manding expression  which  gave  her  such  dignity  on  the  stage. 
She  is  without  a  wrinkle,  and  appears  to  be  no  more  than 
forty.  Her  breadth  of  chest  is  still  remarkable :  it  was  this 
which  endoAved  her  with  the  finest  voice  that  ever  sang.  Her 
speaking  voice  and  dramatic  air  are  still  charming,  and  not  in 
the  least  impaired." 

For  about  five  years  before  Madame  Catalani's  death,  re- 
ports of  her  decease,  and  of  the  gigantic  fortune  she  was  sup- 
posed to  have  left,  were  continually  appearing  in  the  papers. 
In  1844  it  was  said  that  she  had  died  worth  £382,000,  and 
that  she  had  lost  her  husband  in  1838;  a  report  which  was 
laughed  over  at  a  dinner  by  herself,  M.  de  Vallebreque,  and  a 
party  of  friends.  In  1848,  the  cholera  breaking  out  with  vio- 
lence in  the  neighborhood  of  Florence,  Catalani  took  refuge 
in  Paris  with  her  children,  and  while  residing  here  she  heard 
Jenny  Lind  at  a  concert  given  by  Lord  Normanby.  Some 
days  after  the  entertainment  she  was  sitting  alone,  when  a 


212  QUEENS   OF   SONG. 

strange  lady  called  on  her.  The  visitor  refused  to  give  her 
name,  but  was  ushered  into  the  room,  Catalani  rose,  and  the 
strano-er  advanced  timidly.  She  was  young,  not  handsome, 
but  with  an  expressive  face,  over  which  played  a  most  agree- 
able smile.  "  I  am  Jenny  Lind,  madame,"  she  said,  after  a 
little  preliminary  dialogue.  "  I  am  come  for  your  blessing." 
It  was  s;iven.  They  never  met  again,  for  Catalani  was  carded 
off  in  a  few  days  by  the  remorseless  epidemic  from  which  she 
had  fled.  She  died  ou  the  12th  of  June,  at  the  age  of  sixty- 
nine. 


JOSEPHIXE  MAINVILLE  FODOR.  213 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

'  JOSEPHINE  MAINVILLE  FODOE. 

Josephine  Fodor  was  the  daughter  of  Joseph  Fodor,  a 
forgotten  composer  of  some  taleut.  She  was  born,  1V93,  in 
Paris,  and  soon  after  her  father  obtained  an  engagement  at 
St.  Petersburg.  Of  her  early  life  and  musical  training,  all  that 
we  know  is  that  she  made  her  formal  debut  in  1810  in  the 
Imperial  Theatre,  in  the  Cantatrici  ViUane  of  Fioravanti,  in 
which  she  appeared  seventy  times.  She  was  nineteen  when 
M.  Mainville,  an  actor  attached  to  the  Theatre  Franyais  in  the 
service  of  the  court  of  Russia,  offered  her  his  hand,  and  they 
were  married.  But,  unluckily  for  the  young  couple,  the  Em- 
peror Alexander  chose  to  suppress  the  troupes  of  foreign  per- 
formers at  this  period,  and  the  pair  were  obliged  to  seek  their 
fortune  elsewhere.  Madame  Mainville  Fodor  gained  an  oppor- 
tunity of  singing  at  Stockholm  and  at  Copenhagen ;  then  she 
went  to  Paris,  where  she  made  her  ajjpearance  in  1814,  at  the 
Oj)era  Comique.  When  Madame  Catalani,  in  1815,  commenced 
her  unfortunate  speculation  at  the  Salle  Favart,  Madame  Fo- 
dor was  engaged  with  Garcia,  Crivelli,  Porto,  and  other  per- 
formers. The  jealous  directress,  unable  to  tolerate  rivals,  soon 
disgusted  the  artistes  whom  she  had  engaged,  and  they  simul- 
taneously threw  up  their  engagements  and  came  to  London. 

The  season  of  1810  at  the  King's  Theatre  was  long  remem- 
bered as  a  brilliant  one:  it  introduced  Madame  Vestris  and 
Madame  Fodor  to  the  English  public,  and  was  successful  as 
regarded  performers,  performances,  and  receipts.  Mr.  Ayrton, 
to  whom  the  management  had  been  committed  by  Waters, 
the  proprietor,  had  gathered  together  a  company  composed  of 
Spanish,  French,  Italian,  and  English  vocalists.  The  other 
leading  singers  were  Mesdames  Camporese  and  Pasta,  Crivelli, 
Begrez,  Naldi,  Angrisani,  and  Ambrogetti. 

On  the  iTth  of  January  Madame  Fodor  made  her  first  court- 
esy to  a  British  audience  in  her  favorite  opera  Griselda.  She 
had  come  almost  unheralded,  for  the  frequenters  of  the  King's 


214  QUEENS   OP  SONG. 

Theatre  knew  very  little  of  her  until  they  saw  her  name  an- 
nounced. She  displayed  great  sweetness  of  voice  and  delica- 
cy of  expression,  and  the  public  and  the  critics  were  equally 
pleased.  Her  second  part  was  that  of  Ceres,  in  Winter's  op- 
era, in  which  she  completely  gained  the  favor  of  the  public. 

A  great  excitement  was  caused  by  the  production  of  Mo- 
zart's serious  opera,  La  Clemenza  di  Tito,  on  March  2d.  Bra- 
ham,  who  had  been  announced  from  the  beginning  of  the  sea- 
son, appeared,  after  an  absence  of  ten  years  from  the  stage  of 
the  King's  Theatre.  When  he  entered  on  the  scene,  he  "  show- 
ed some  signs  of  diffidence,"  owing,  probably,  to  his  not  hav- 
ing met  the  opera  audience  for  so  long  a  time ;  and  some  slight 
marks  of  disapprobation  were  heard,  but  they  were  overpow- 
ered by  the  plaudits  of  his  friends  and  the  public.  Madame 
Fodor  was  greatly  admired  in  this  opera.  She  took,  however, 
some  very  unwarrantable  liberties  with  the  part,  and  particu- 
larly desired  to  commence  with  a  song,  in  which  she  antici- 
pated making  a  great  impression,  but  which  the  composer  had 
placed  at  the  end  of  the  second  act.  Ayrton  objected  that 
this  was  absurd,  since  in  the  song  the  heroine,  being  exiled, 
bids  adieu  to  her  friends,  so  the  transposition  would  have  the 
effect  of  making  the  farewell  precede  the  banishment.  But 
Madame  Fodor  persisted,  and  appealed  to  Signer  Yestris,  then 
poet  of  the  King's  Theatre,  who  said  that  the  change  was  of 
no  consequence,  as  the  unity  of  the  opera  had  long  been  com- 
pletely ruined  on  the  Continent.  Ayrton  indignantly  respond- 
ed that  if  the  opera  was  spoiled  abroad,  that  was  no  reason 
why  it  should  be  injured  in  England.  Madame  Fodor,  how- 
ever, applied  to  the  directors  of  the  theatre,  and  obtained  from 
them  a  written  permission  to  do  as  she  liked.  Crivelli  did  the 
same  with  some  of  his  music  in  this  unlucky  opera. 

Mozart's  far-famed  opera,  Le  Nozze  di  Figaro^  was  produced 
June  2 2d,  to  the  great  delight  of  the  musical  world.  Perhaps 
Madame  Fodor  was  never  heard  to  more  advantage  than  in 
this  masterpiece ;  all  her  songs  and  her  duets  were  executed 
with  extreme  purity,  delicacy,  and  expression.  Levasseur  was 
a  sardonic-looking  Almaviva,  and,  though  he  sang  excellently, 
he  yet  made  love  like  a  cynic,  which  did  not  please  the  audi- 
ence. Naldi  and  Madame  Vestris  were  admirable.  The  the- 
atre closed  August  10th,  after  a  most  prosperous  season,  to 
the  pecuniary  success  of  which  the  numerous  officers,  naval  and 


JOSEPHINE   MATNVILLE   EODOR.  215 

military,  who  had  come  home,  and  the  multitude  of  foreigners 
which  the  peace  had  permitted  to  roam  through  England  in 
quest  of  pleasure,  iu  no  small  degree  contributed. 

In  1817  a  spirited  attempt  was  made  by  Mr.  Ayrton  to  ef- 
fect some  important  reforms  in  the  administration  of  the  the- 
atre. He  endeavored  to  break  through  the  trammels  and  tyr- 
anny of  the  singers  and  dancers,  and  to  present  the  public  with 
the  masterpieces  of  the  great  German  and  Italian  composers; 
but  he  met  with  numerous  and  insurmountable  obstacles,  and, 
like  too  many  other  reformers,  failed.  The  performers  were 
the  same  as  in  the  preceding  year,  and  the  theatre  was  opened 
on  the  11th  of  January  with  Griselda.  Madame  Fodor  per- 
formed Avith  much  pathos,  and  the  delicacy  and  purity  of  her 
singing  were  fully  appreciated.  Madame  Pasta  appeared  in 
the  opera,  and  rendered  powerful  support  to  Madame  Fodor. 
The  Nbzze  di  Figaro  was  next  produced,  Ambrogetti  person- 
ating the  Count  with  great  success.  Madame  Fodor  was  the 
Countess ;  Madame  Camporese,  Susanna ;  Madame  Pasta,  the 
Page;  and  ISTaldi,  Figaro.  Such  a  cast  left  nothing  to  be  de- 
sired. 

The  success  of  the  Figaro  induced  Mr.  Ayrton  to  bring  for- 
ward Don  Giovanni^  the  triumphant  success  of  which  forms 
an  era  in  the  history  of  the  theatre.  Madame  Fodor  made  a 
charming  Zerlina ;  the  lightness  and  delicacy  of  her  expres- 
sion, the  simplicity,  sweetness,  and  tenderness  of  her  acting, 
were  universally  admitted.  Ambrogetti,  though  not  distin- 
guished for  his  attainments  as  a  singer,  threw  into  his  perform- 
ance of  Don  Giovanni  so  much  fire  and  animation,  that  the 
popularity  of  the  opera  was  established.  Madame  Camporese 
performed  Donna  Anna,  and  Naldi  was  a  very  lively  Leporello. 
The  scenery  also  was  beautiful. 

During  this  season  Madame  Fodor  sang  at  the  Concerts  of 
Ancient  Music  on  alternate  nights  with  Madame  Camporese. 

In  1818  Madame  Fodor  was  again  engaged  at  the  King's 
Theatre.  The  season  opened  with  Paer's  Griselda,  in  which 
Madame  Fodor  had  made  her  first  appearance  in  England,  and 
the  part  was  well  Adapted  to  her  talent.  "If  wanting. the 
sweetness,  mellowness,  and  expression  of  an  Italian,"  says  one 
critic,  "  her  voice  is  marvelous  for  a  French  voice ;  she  is  never 
outrageous,  never  urges  her  tones  into  clamor,  or  her  visage 
into  convulsions;  seldom  degenerates  into  the  commonplace 


216  QUEEXS    OF   SOXG. 

of  that  contortion  wbich  the  French  call  a  smile."  Paisiello's 
sweet  but  feeble  *pera,  La  Molinara^  was  next  produced. 
Fodor  personated  the  Miller's  Maid,  a  class  of  character  much 
better  suited  to  her  talents  than  tragic  heroines.  Le  Nozze  di 
Figaro  was  performed  again  this  season,  Madame  Fodor  ex- 
changing the  part  of  the  Countess  for  that  of  Susanna;  and, 
with  due  allowance  for  the  disadvantages  of  her  figure,  which 
was  not  suited  to  the  character,  she  gave  it  admirably.  Don 
Giovanni  was  also  performed  —  superbly,  Madame  Fodor 
again  taking  the  then  subordinate  part  of  Zerlina,  in  which  she 
achieved  a  triumphant  success. 

II  Barhiere  di  Seviglia,  the  first  of  Eossini's  operas  offered 
to  British  ears,  was  next  brought  out,  when  Garcia  made  his 
debut  in  England  as  the  Count  Almaviva.  He  was  tall,  hand- 
some, and  of  a  fine  figure,  with  animated,  fiery  action,  and  a 
voice  of  singular  sweetness  and  flexibility.  Madame  Fodor 
was  the  Rosina ;  Ambrogetti,  Dr.  Bartolo ;  and  ISTaldi,  Figaro. 
On  the  30th  of  April,  Rossini's  JElisahetta  was  brought  forward 
for  the  benefit  of  Madame  Fodor,  who  aj^peared  to  advantage 
as  the  regal  heroine,  and  sang  in  her  best  style.  Madame  Fo- 
dor also  performed  Carolina  in  II  Matrhnonio  Segreto. 

In  the  month  of  July,  1818,  Madame  Fodor  went  to  Italy, 
where  she  studied  assiduously,  and  succeeded  in  rendering  her 
voice  supple  and  sweet,  and  acquiring  a  peculiarly  "  honeyed" 
tone.  She  was  engaged  at  Venice,  where  she  was  heard  for 
the  first  time  in  the  Elisahetta  of  Caraffa,  which  she  perform- 
ed thirty-eight  times  successively.  She  gained  a  complete  tri- 
umph, being  crowned  on  the  stage  after  her  first  appearance, 
and  recalled  many  times  each  evening  amid  an  ujiroar  of  de- 
light. The  princiisal  dilettanti  of  Venice  had  a  gold  medal 
struck  in  her  honor. 

The  Italian  Theatre  of  Paris,  ruined  by  the  bad  administra- 
tion of  Madame  Catalani,  was  reorganized  at  the  commence- 
ment of  1819,  when  Madame  Fodor  was  engaged,  and  appear- 
ed in  the  May  of  that  year.  Then  commenced  the  brilliant 
period  of  her  career :  her  talent  had  become  completely  de- 
veloped, and  in  the  Agnese  of  Paer,  II  Matrinionio  Segreto, 
Don  Giovanni,  II  BarMere  di  Seviglia,SM^La  GazzaLadra, 
she  achieved  a  series  of  triumphs  which  lasted  for  three  years. 
She  was  not  remarkable  for  elevation  of  style  nor  for  passion- 
ate fervor,  but  for  accurate  intonation,  great  purity  of  tone, 


JOSEPHINE   MAINVILLE   FODOE.  217 

much  perfection  in  details,  and  an  irresistible  charm  in  her  ac- 
centuation. Count  Stendhal  sarcastically  characterized  her  as 
a  sublime  bird-orjjan.  Tl  Barhitre  had  not  much  success  on 
its  first  representation  at  the  Italian  theatre  at  Paris,  but  on 
the  second  it  became  extremely  popular,  Avhen  Madame  Fodor 
took  the  place  of  Madame  Ronzi  di  Begnis  as  Rosina,  aud  made 
the  beautiful  creation  of  Kossini  understood  by  the  Parisians. 

During  the  latter  part  of  her  stay  in  Paris  the  health  of 
Madame  Fodor  was  much  aflectcd  by  an  internal  disorder, 
which  had  no  influence  on  the  purity  of  her  voice,  but  which 
prostrated  her  bodily  strength ;  and  her  physicians  advising  a 
tour  in  Italy,  she  resolved  to  try  the  change  of  air.  She  took 
her  leave  of  the  Parisians  in  Elisahetta^m  March,  1822,  and 
left  for  Naples  in  April.  The  effect  of  the  lovely  climate  of 
Naples  was  prompt  and  salutary,  and  the  French  cantatrice 
made  her  ai^ijearance  at  San  Carlo  in  Otello  the  August  of  the 
same  year.  The  enthusiasm  of  the  Neapolitans  equaled  that 
of  the  Venetians  and  the  Parisians.  She  performed  in  Scraira- 
mide,  Zelmira,  and  many  other  operas,  concluding  a  most  suc- 
cessful engagement  February  8, 1823. 

From  Naples  Madame  Fodor  went  to  Vienna,  with  her  im- 
presario, Barbaja,  who  was  obliged  to  relinquish  the  San  Carlo, 
but  who  did  not  choose  to  give  up  his  splendid  company.  Dur- 
ing the  second  performance  of  Otdlo^  at  the  Karnthnerthor 
Theatre,  Madame  Fodor  was  seized  with  a  fit  while  singing 
the  duet  with  Emilia.  The  performance  was  suspended  for 
the  evening,  but  the  next  night  she  reappeared  in  the  same 
opera.  She  sang  during  the  entire  season,  with  Fanny  Ecker- 
lin,  the  two  Davides,  Donzelli,  aud  the  bass  singers  Ambrogi, 
Bassi,  and  Lablache.  She  performed  principally  in  the  works 
of  Rossini,  and  was  exceedingly  popular,  despite  the  counter- 
attractions  of  Sontag,  of  Mombelli,  and  the  oihcv  2^rime  donne 
attached  to  the  company.  Ilcr  Semiramide  was  so  greatly 
admired  that  she  performed  it  sixty  times  successively,  with 
immense  applause.  Returning  to  Naples,  she  was  engaged  at 
the  Opera  till  August,  1825,  when  she  retraced  her  steps  to 
Paris  to  fulfill  a  contract  made  with  M.  le  Vicomte  de  la  Roche- 
foucault,  Directeur  General  des  Beaux  Arts. 

She  was  then  in  the  zenith  of  her  fame,  and  her  voice  might 
be  said  to  have  attained  its  fullest  development.  No  sooner 
had  she  made  her  appearance  in  Paris  than  the  horizon  of  the 

K 


218  QUEENS   OF   SONG. 

Theatre  Italien  became  overcast.  Rossini's  Semiramide  had 
been  chosen  for  the  benefit  of  Madame  Pasta,  who  naturally 
understood  that  she  was  to  perform  the  principal  part  in  the 
opera,  it  being  one  of  her  finest  characters ;  but,  at  rehearsal, 
the  role  of  Arsace  was  allotted  to  Pasta,  and  that  of  the  Queen 
of  Babylon  given  to  Fodor.  A  quarrel,  vehement,  long,  and 
bitter,  was  the  result ;  but  Madame  Fodor  would  not  yield ; 
she  said  that  Madame  Pasta  might  perform  Semiramide  after 
her  debut,  but  not  before.  The  Parisians  were  almost  univer- 
sally on  the  side  of  Pasta,  who,  it  is  certain,  was  treated  in  the 
most  unhandsome  manner  by  M.  le  Vicomte. 

The  dispute  was  ended  by  Madame  Fodor's  appeai'ing  at  the 
Theatre  Italien,  on  the  9th  of  December,  1825,  in  Rossini's 
Semiramide,  which  was  as  yet  unknown  to  Paris.  The  boxes, 
pit,  gallery,  and  stalls  were  crammed,  and  the  whole  musical 
world  of  Paris  was  present,  with  many  musical  celebrities  of 
the  day — Rossini,  Cherubini,  Choron,  and  others,  who  antici- 
pated a  brilliant  triumph  for  the  prima  donna.  Galli,  Bor- 
dogni,  and  Mdlle.  Schiassetti,  were  to  sing  with  her.  The  au- 
dience greeted  Madame  Fodor  with  the  most  flattering  enthu- 
siasm. The  voice  of  la  prima  delle  prime  donne,  as  the  Italians 
called  her,  was  in  excellent  order,  though  she  was  suffering 
from  almost  overpowering  timidity,  unaccountable  in  so  prac- 
ticed a  performer ;  and  she  went  through  the  first  scene  of  the 
opera  in  a  style  which  excited  the  audience  to  a  pitch  of  almost 
delirious  delight.  On  her  reappearance  in  the  next  scene,  she 
had  not  proceeded  beyond  the  fifth  or  sixth  bar  of  the  first  air 
when  her  voice  suddenly  failed  her :  not  a  note  could  be  heard. 
The  orchestra  ceased  playing ;  and  the  cantatrice,  nearly  faint- 
ing from  agitation,  made  the  most  violent  exertions  to  recover 
herself:  her  chest  heaved,  her  blanched  lips  quivered,  cold 
drops  of  perspiration  bedewed  her  brow,  but  not  even  a  cry 
of  agony  escaped  her.     Her  voice  was  gone ! 

The  curtain  was  dropped,  and  the  whole  house  was  in  con- 
sternation. The  manager  (Mr.  Ayrton)  appeared,  and  explain- 
ed that  the  sudden  indisposition  of  Madame  Fodor  must  cause 
the  performances  to  be  suspended  for  a  few  minutes,  and  the 
audience,  indulgent  as  usual  on  such  an  occasion,  promised  to 
wait  patiently.  The  dressing-room  of  the  unhappy  vocalist 
was  a  scene  of  indescribable  confusion.  Lying  on  a  sofa  in  a 
frenzy  of  grief,  she  was  flinging  her  arras  about  in  the  wildest 


JOSEPHINE  MAINYILLE  FODOE.  219 

despair,  striking  her  face,  tearing  her  hair,  and  giving  way  to 
her  anguish  in  mute  agony :  she  uttered  no  audible  cries.  Ros- 
sini fairly  wept ;  and  Choron  fell  on  his  knees,  entreating  her 
to  calm  her  agitation.  Half  an  hour  had  elapsed,  and  the  house 
was  becoming  violent  in  its  impatience.  Poor  Ayrton  then 
came  and  informed  Madame  Fodor  that  the  audience  would 
no  loncrer  wait,  and  that  he  was  about  to  announce  to  them 
that  the  performance  could  not  proceed.  The  color  rushed  to 
the  face  of  the  cantatrice ;  her  eyes  flashed  fire,  her  lips  moved 
convulsively,  and,  springing  to  her  feet,  she  exclaimed,  in  a  loud, 
full,  and  resonant  voice, 

"  Draw  up  the  curtain ;  I  will  sing !" 

"  Saved !  saved !"  cried  Rossini,  embracing  her. 

The  curtain  was  again  raised,  and  the  prima  donna  entered, 
and  was  welcomed  by  shouts  of  applause.  A  profound  silence 
succeeded,  and  then  the  audience  remained  in  expectancy. 
Madame  Fodor  went  through  the  remainder  of  the  opera,  but 
at  the  conclusion  of  the  last  scene  she  fell  to  the  ground  in  a 
swoon.  On  her  recovery  she  found  that  her  voice  was  com- 
pletely gone. 

Under  these  circumstances,  she  offered  to  relinquish  her  en- 
gagement ;  but,  hoping  to  see  what  they  considered  the  effects 
of  a  temporary  accident  pass  away,  the  administration  protest- 
ed against  this.  But  finding  it  was  hopeless  to  look  forward 
to  the  restoration  of  her  powers,  they  refused  to  jiay  her  sala- 
ry. She  demanded  that  they  should  execute  certain  clauses 
of  the  contract;  this  they  declined,  and  a  process  followed, 
which  she  gained.  The  administration  then  carried  the  cause 
to  the  Conseil  d'Etat,  and  the  discussion  lasted  some  time,  but 
was  finally  terminated  by  a  compromise. 

Trusting  that  beneath  the  sunny  skies  of  Italy  she  might 
once  more  regain  her  powers,  Madame  Fodor,  on  the  conclu- 
sion of  her  dispute  with  the  management  of  the  Italian  Thea- 
tre of  Paris,  went  to  Naples.  She  did  indeed  rid  herself  of  the 
obstinate  hoarseness  which  had  destroyed  her  voice  in  France, 
and  fancied  that  she  could  again  sing.  She  appeared  at  the 
San  Carlo  in  1828,  and  again  in  1831,  with  Tamburini.  But 
she  had  grievously  deceived  herself  At  last,  convinced  that 
it  was  hopeless  to  look  forward  to  any  alteration  for  the  bet- 
ter, Madame  Fodor  retired  altogether  from  the  stage,  and  fixed 
her  abode  at  Fontaiuebleau.    lu  November,  1834,  the  unlucky 


220  QUEENS    OF   SONG. 

cantatrice  went  to  Paris,  and  submitted  to  a  trying  operation 
under  the  hands  of  Doctor  Cruveilhier.  The  disorder  which 
affected  her  had  placed  her  life  in  danger,  and  her  recovery- 
was  for  a  time  doubtful. 

She  still  gave  concerts,  although  unable  herself  to  take  any 
part  in  them.  They  were  held  at  Foutainebleau,  sometimes 
at  the  house  of  Madame  Fodor,  sometimes  at  that  of  Colonel 
Braque.  It  was  rumored  in  1837  that  a  skillful  surgeon  had 
effected  a  complete  recovery  of  her  vocal  organ,  and  that  she 
had  regained  all  the  brilliancy  of  her  execution,  but  the  report 
was  groundless. 

In  1857  Madame  Fodor  published  a  work  entitled  Conseils 
et  Meflexions  sur  VArt  de  Chant,  the  result  of  her  knowledge 
and  experience ;  and  she  is  at  present  living  in  Paris. 


i 


LAT77  221 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

LAUEE   CINTHIE   DAMOEEAU. 

In  tbe  Rue  Grange  Bateliere,  Paris,  some  fifty  years  ago, 
there  lived  a  little  girl,  whose  chief  pleasure  was  in  studying 
music  after  a  solitary  fashion  of  her  own.  This  child  was 
Laure  Cinthie  Montalant,  who  had  been  born  in  this  quiet 
street,  February  6, 1801. 

Where  this  little  girl  had  obtained  her  predilection  for  mu- 
sic was  a  mystery.  M.  Montalant,  her  father,  was  a  professor 
of  languages,  and  troubled  himself  very  little  about  music  and 
musicians;  her  mother  was  a  wood  engraver;  and  none  of  the 
family  had  ever  been  known  to  cherish  any  liking  for  the  di- 
vine art. 

Laure  had  an  uncle,  the  Abbe  Jacques,  who  had  been  pre- 
ceptor to  the  sons  of  the  King  of  Holland.  Perceiving  the 
evident  gift  Laure  had  for  music,  he  spoke  to  his  friend  M. 
Henri  Plantade,  who  directed  the  singing-classes  at  the  Con- 
servatoire. He  also  took  her  to  Catel,  who,  looking  at  the 
pale,  slender  child,  smiled  incredulously  Avhen  told  of  her  prom- 
ising talent,  and  at  her  earnest  declaration  that  she  would  like 
to  be  a  musician.  The  illustrious  professor  asked  her  to  sing, 
and  Laure  selected  the  finale  from  Le  N'ozze  di  Figaro^  which 
she  repeated  with  such  precision  and  feeling  that  Catel  was 
astonished.  She  was  admitted  to  the  Conservatoire,  Novem- 
ber 28, 1808,  in  the  class  for  the  study  of  the  piano-forte,  and 
soon  became  a  clever  pianist.  She  was  then  raised  to  the  class 
for  harmony,  where  her  progress  Avas  so  rapid  that  Cazot,  her 
teacher,  was  often  perplexed  how  to  snpjDly  her  with  fresh 
pieces.  Her  playing  was  so  pure,  her  expression  so  elegant, 
her  fingering  so  agile,  by  the  time  she  was  thirteen,  that  the 
committee  thought  she  had  no  need  to  become  a  vocalist,  and 
might  be  very  well  satisfied  with  her  proficiency  on  the  piano- 
forte ;  they  therefore  obstinately  refused  to  admit  her  into  the 
singing-class.  Laure  entreated  in  vain,  and  then,  vexed  by 
their  stern  denial,  demanded  her  dismissal. 


222  QUEENS   OP  SONG. 

M.  Plantade,  her  uncle's  friend,  seeing  the  real  talent  of  this 
young  girl,  came  to  her  rescue.  "  You  want  lessons  in  sing- 
ing," said  the  good-hearted  professor :  "  I  will  give  them  to 
you ;"  and  he  kept  his  word.  "  M.  Plantade  was  assiduous  in 
giving  me  lessons,  with  all  the  care  of  an  excellent  musical 
professor,  and  all  the  tenderness  of  a  father,"  says  Laure  her- 
self. "  My  voice,  which  gave  promise  of  becoming  flexible, 
but  which  did  not  then  possess  much  strength,  struck  him  as 
completely  adapted  to  the  Italian  style.  I  studied,  thei'efore, 
under  him,  only  the  old  repertoire,  beginning  with  Durante's 
Psalms.  My  master  allowed  me  to  sing  scarcely  three  or  four 
French  airs ;  among  these  latter  were  the  airs  of '  Montano  et 
Stephanie,'  and  '  Beniowski,'  true  models  of  a  style  that  is  at 
once  simple,  expressive,  and  graceful." 

In  the  house  where  Laure  resided  there  was  a  harp,  upon 
which  she  commenced  playing.  Wood-engraving  and  teach- 
ing languages  not  being,  at  that  period,  especially  remunera- 
tive, the  pecuniary  resources  of  the  family  did  not  allow  of 
her  being  supplied  with  published  music,  which  was  very  dear 
at  the  time.  This  obliged  her  to  compose  studies  for  herself, 
and  she  wrote  caprices,  rondeaux,  and  other  things,  in  bold 
defiance  of  all  known  rules,  and  performed  them  under  the 
guidance  of  a  musical  instinct.  She  formed  a  little  school, 
too,  where,  besides  learning  singing,  her  juvenile  pupils  per- 
formed the  old  operas  comiques  to  an  audience  of  admiring 
mammas. 

When  she  had  attained  her  fourteenth  year,  M.  Plantade 
said  to  her,  "My  dear  girl,  you  can  now  do  without  me.  Mark 
my  words :  you  possess  taste ;  you  will  adojDt  what  is  good  in 
some,  and  reject  what  is  bad  in  others."  And  he  dismissed 
her  with  encouraging  advice. 

Uncle  Jacques,  who  felt  persuaded  of  her  ability,  was  anx- 
ious to  bring  her  forward,  and  jDresented  her  to  the  Queen  of 
Holland.  Her  majesty  received  her  very  kindly,  and  called 
her  "  sa  jolie  petite  virtuose."  The  young  girl's  first  steps  in 
the?  musical  world  were  not,  however,  very  brilliant;  some 
concerts  which  she  gave  attracted  small  notice,  for  she  was  un- 
known, and  was  not  a  foreigner.  Her  voice  acquired  each 
day  more  softness,  more  purity ;  and,  being  an  excellent  musi- 
cian, and  endowed  with  a  strong  instinct  for  music,  she  profit- 
ed by  the  practical  experience  she  gained  by  listening  to  the 


LAUKE  CINTHIE   DAMOEEAU.  223 

finished  singers  who  appeared  iu  Paris,  particularly  those  at 
the  Theatre  Italien. 

Madame  Catalani  being  then  director  of  the  Opera,  M. 
Vallebreque  thought  that  Mdlle.  Montalant,  as  a  young  un- 
known singer,  would  make  a  most  convenient  "  puppet"  to  re- 
place Madame  Fodor,  and  he  offered  her  an  engagement  on 
one  condition — that  she  should  Italianize  her  name.  A  very 
slight  alteration  changed  her  name  of  Ciuthie,  and  at  the  age 
of  fifteen  she  appeared  as  Mdlle.  Ciuti,  in  the  part  of  Lilla,  in 
La  Cosa  Jiara,  one  of  Madame  Fodor's  favorite  characters. 

"  Thanks  to  my  extreme  youth,"  she  says,  "  and,  above  all, 
to  the  advice  of  my  dear  master,  my  success  was  a  genuine 
one.  The  day  on  which  M.  Plantade's  unconditional  approba- 
tion confirmed  the  applause  of  the  public  was  the  happiest  day 
of  my  life.  After  my  successful  debut  I  had  many  annoyances 
and  prejudices  to  overcome.  I  was  French:  this  was  almost 
a  crime  at  the  Theatre  Italien!  But  I  was  not  discouraged. 
I  learned,  in  a  very  short  time,  nearly  fifteen  or  twenty  jxarts ; 
I  understudied  (sometimes  iu  a  day)  the  parts  of  all  the  prime 
donne ;  in  the  ardor  of  my  zeal,  and  with  my  incessant  appli- 
cation, I  was  ready  for  every  score.  My  adoption  of  this  sys- 
tem proved  one  day  highly  advantageous  to  me.  Madame 
Catalani  was  to  appear  in  an  extraordinary  performance  at  the 
Opera.  The  full  rehearsal  was  already  somewhat  advanced, 
when  it  was  remarked  that  the  great  vocalist  had  not  arrived. 
At  the  moment  the  ritournelle  of  her  cavatina  announced  her 
entrance  on  the  stage,  Barilli,  our  stage  manager,  taking  my 
hand,  boldly  presented  mc  to  the  orchestra  to  sing  in  the  place 
of  our  celebrated  manageress.  Though  greatly  agitated  at 
first,  I  felt  afterward  very  happy,  for  the  orchestra  applauded 
me  very  much,  and  it  was  the  first  time  such  an  honor  had 
been  paid  me.  When  Madame  Catalani  heard  of  what  I  had 
been  bold  enough — or,  rather,  what  my  devotion  to  art  had 
prompted  me — to  do,  she  thanked  me  by  an  embrace,  for  she 
was  always  kind." 

The  first  really  important  part  which  was  given  to  Mdlle. 
Cinti,  however,  was  that  of  Cherubino,  in  Z>e  Nozze  di  Figaro^, 
in  which  opera  she  performed  with  Garcia  and  Madame  Cata- 
lani. The  manner  in  which  she  sang  the  air  at  the  feet  of  the 
Countess  was  much  applauded ;  but  the  young  vocalist  was 
not  much  noticed  by  the  habitues  of  the  Opera.    She  wanted 


224  QUEENS    OF   SONG. 

sensibility,  they  said ;  she  sang  like  a  bird-organ :  indeed,  she 
could  not  sing  well,  as  she  had  never  visited  Italy.  However, 
Laure  persevered.  Profiting  by  all  she  heard,  she  studied  ar- 
dently, always  hoping  for  the  excellence  which  she  felt  she 
should  ultimately  attain ;  and  she  improved,  not  rapidly,  but 
with  certainty.  She  was  pretty,  had  much  musical  knowledge, 
and  a  simple  and  pure  tast« ;  as  an  actress,  too,  she  was  easy 
and  imaffected ;  so,  by  degrees,  she  was  intrusted  with  many 
good  parts;  among  others,  she  performed  Rosina,  Giulietta, 
Amenaide,  and  Zerlina. 

She  desired  to  appear  at  the  Academic  Royale  de  Musique ; 
but  she  had  to  contend  against  Mdlle.  Naldi,  who  was  strong- 
ly favored  by  Siguor  Viotti,  director  of  the  Opera  and  of  the 
Italiens :  a  gentleman  who  had  a  reiDutatiou  as  a  good  violin- 
ist, and  was  a  respectable  wine-merchant,  but  who  proved  to 
be  a  bad  administrator.  In  1822  Mdlle.  Cinti  was  performing 
still  at  the  Theatre  Italien,  in  such  operas  as  La  Gazza  Ladra^ 
Avith  Barilli,  Bordognij^^and  Madame  Rossi,  and  was  then  very 
popular. 

At  this  time  a  noble  patron  of  the  King's  Theatre  heard 
Mdlle.  Cinti,  and  recommended  her  to  London,  where  she  was 
engaged  by  Ebers,  with  Rosalbina  Caradori  and  Madame  Gra- 
ziani.  In  May,  1822,  she  made  her  appearance  as  Rosina,  in 
II  Barhiere  di  Seviglia^  and  was  most  kindly  received.  Her 
exquisite  grace,  delicacy,  feeling,  and  musical  taste  and  knowl- 
edge were  much  admired,  though  it  was  regretted  that  her 
powers  as  a  singer  were  so  limited.  Her  beauty  and  her  in- 
telligence as  an  actress  also  gained  her  favor ;  but  she  was  yet 
young,  her  talents  were  not  perfectly  developed,  and  for  sev- 
eral reasons  she  did  not  make  any  impression  in  England. 
She  returned  to  Paris,  however,  more  confident  in  her  powers ; 
and  her  salary,  hitherto  8000  francs,  was  raised  to  12,000, 

On  her  return  to  Paris  she  performed  in  II  Barhiere  di  Se- 
viglia,  with  Pellegrini,  Garcia,  Graziani,  Profeti,  and  Levasseur. 
She  also  pei-formed  in  II  llatrimonio  Segreto^  Bon  Giovanni^ 
and  in  Borneo  e  Giulietta^  with  Madame  Pasta.  In  NoAem- 
ber,  for  Madame  Pasta's  benefit,  Mercadante's  Elisa  e  Claudlo 
was  represented,  when  Mdlle.  Cinti,  in  the  part  of  Carlotta, 
sang  with  pure  taste  her  pretty  cavatina. 

The  arrival  of  Rossini  in  Paris  formed  a  marked  era  in  mu- 
sical art  in  France,  and  was  a  happy  event  for  Mdlle.  Cinti. 


LAUEE   CINTHIE   DAMOREAIT.  225 

She  was  receiving  instruction  from  Bordogni,  when  the  great 
maestro  heard  her,  and  from  that  time  took  a  special  interest 
in  her  welfare.  His  3Iosb  in  Erjitto  was  produced  October 
24,  1822.  It  did  not  create  the  eiFect  which  had  been  antici- 
pated, although  Madame  Pasta  was  ably  seconded  by  Madame 
Rossi  and  Mdlle.  Cinti,  and  Garcia,  in  spite  of  his  real  illness, 
exerted  himself  to  the  utmost.  Levasseur  also  had  a  part,  in 
which  he  developed  all  the  resources  of  his  fine  vocal  talent ; 
and  the  debutant,  Zuchelli,  who  possessed  a  tenor  voice  of  rare 
power  and  of  considerable  extent,  Avhich  he  managed  with  ex- 
traordinary art,  sang  splendidly.  The  comparative  failure  of 
this  opera  is  attributable  to  its  want  of  dramatic  interest.  II 
Barhiere^  and  La  Gazza  Ladra^  have  each  a  story  full  of  va- 
riety and  of  dramatic  action,  an  element  of  success  entirely 
wanting  in  3Iosh.  This  opera,  however,  crowned  Mdlle.  Ciu- 
ti's  success :  it  contained  the  first  part  written  for  her. 

II  Viaggio  a  Helms  was  produced  at  the  Theatre  Italien 
in  June,  1825,  when  Mdlle.  Cinti  performed  with  Pasta,  Mom- 
belli,  and  a  number  of  famous  Italian  singers. 

At  this  time  the  representations  at  the  Grand  Opera  were 
very  wearisome,  for  the  performers  did  not  care  to  take  pains, 
as  they  were  paid  whether  they  sang  well  or  ill,  and  they 
were  not  encouraged  by  the  public.  The  Academic,  in  con- 
versation, was  now  styled  simply  rO^^era ;  country  people  des- 
ignated it  the  Grand  Opera ;  and  from  its  situation  in  the 
Rue  Lepelletier,  near  the  Boulevard,  the  singers  were  frequent- 
ly called  les  Chcmteurs  cle  la  Rue  LepelUtier.  Rossini  employ- 
ed his  influence  to  substitute  opera  chante  for  lyric  tragedy  at 
the  Academie.  MM.  Persuis  and  Habeneck,  directors  of  the 
Italiens  and  the  Academie,  intending  to  change  their  represent- 
ations and  perform  the  works  of  Rossini,  were  in  want  of  a 
vocalist  capable  of  interpreting  his  ideas,  and,  considering  that 
he  ought  to  be  the  best  judge  of  the  kind  of  singer  most  cal- 
culated to  carry  out  his  ideas,  readily  attended  to  his  sugges- 
tions. The  reform  commenced,  then,  with  the  engagement  of 
Mdlle.  Cinti  and  the  production  of  ie  Siege  de  Corinthe^  which 
was  brought  out  October  9, 1826.  The  talents  of  Mdlle.  Cinti 
and  Adolphe  Nourrit  aflbrded  great  resources  to  the  com- 
poser ;  the  part  of  Neocles  was  Nourrit's  first  important  im- 
personation. Some  misunderstanding,  however,  liaving  arisen 
between  Mdlle.  Cinti  and  the  administration,  in  the  summer 
15  K2 


226  QUEENS    OF   SONG. 

of  1827  she  abruptly  quitted  the  Opera.  She  appeared  at 
Brussels,  where  she  excited  great  admiration,  and  there  she 
married  M.  Damoreau,  an  actor  at  the  theatre  of  that  city,  who 
made  his  appearance  some  time  after,  but  without  success,  at 
the  Opera  in  Paris,  and  then  at  the  Theatre  Feydeau. 

When  Auber's  greatest  work.  La  Muette  de  Portici,  was 
produced  at  the  Grand  Opera  in  1827,  Madame  Damoreau 
sustained  the  somewhat  ungrateful  part  of  Elvira,  singing  the 
music  in  a  manner  which  greatly  contributed  to  the  success 
of  the  piece.  In  1828  she  was  the  original  representative  of 
the  Comtesse  de  Formontiers  in  Rossini's  charming  opera  Le 
Corate  Ory ;  and  when  his  chef-cVceuvre^Guillawne  Te7^,  was 
produced  in  1829,  she  performed  the  character  of  the  hero- 
ine, with  Nourrit,  Levasseur,  Alexis  Dupont,  and  Massol.  She 
next  appeared  as  Fatme  in  Auber's  Le  Dieu  et  la  Bayadh'e^ 
and  as  Teresine  in  Le  Philtre  of  the  same  composer.  In  1831, 
M.  Veron,  then  director  of  the  Grand  Opera,  pi'oduced  Mey- 
erbeer's Eohert  le  Diahle.  The  part  of  the  Princess  Isabelle 
was  intrusted  to  Madame  Damoreau,  who  succeeded  in  pleas- 
ing the  manager,  the  compose!*,  the  critics,  and  the  public. 

In  the  summer  of  1832,  driven  away  from  Paris  by  the  rav- 
ages of  the  cholera,  Madame  Cinti  Damoreau,  with  Nourrit 
and  Levasseur,  came  to  England.  She  was  engaged  at  a  sal- 
ary of  100  guineas  per  night,  and  appeared  May  26,  in  La 
Cenerentola.,  with  Madame  Castelli,  Donzelli,  and  Tamburini, 
who  then  made  his  debut  in  England.  She  next  appeared  as 
Rosina,  in  LI  Barhiere  di  Seviglla^  Lablache  being  the  Figaro. 
"Cinti  has  greatly  improved  smce  our  former  acquaintance 
with  her,"  said  an  English  critic ;  "  and  not  only  throughout 
the  part  of  Rosina,  but  especially  in  Rode's  variations,  intro- 
duced as  the  music  lesson,  was  little  inferior  to  Sontag."  She 
was  also  veiy  much  admired  in  La  Donna  del  Lago,  in  which 
she  performed  with  Donzelli  and  Madame  Moriani. 

Previous  to  closing  his  theatre,  after  a  most  disastrous  sea- 
son, the  manager,  Monck  Mason,  brought  oat  Liohert  le  Liable. 
He  spared  nothing  which  could  give  it  importance  and  attrac- 
tion, but  spent  £6000  in  mounting  it.  The  scenery  painted 
for  the  opera  by  Messrs.  Grieve  was  magnificent,  the  convent 
scene  being  only  eclipsed  by  that  with  which  the  piece  termi- 
nates— an  interior  of  the  Cathedral  of  Palermo.  Meyerbeer 
himself  came  to  London  expressly  to  superintend  the  produe- 


LAUEE   CINTHIE  DAMOEEAU.  227 

tion  of  bis  opera,  but,  through  various  delays,  was  obliged  to 
leave  for  Berlin  without  attending  a  single  rehearsal.  At  last 
it  was  i^roduced  on  Monday,  June  11,  with  only  three  changes 
in  the  original  cast — Madame  de  Mcric  taking  the  part  of 
Alice,  while  the  light  and  brilliant  Ileberle  undertook  the 
character  of  the  Abbess,  "  created"  by  Taglioni. 

Shortly  after  the  production  of  Bohert  le  Diahle,  Madame 
Damoreau  refused  to  perform  for  100  guineas  a  night;  the 
part  of  Isabelle  was  therefore  given  to  Madlle.  Schneider,  and 
that  of  Raimbaut  omitted  altogether.  Madame  Damoreau  re- 
turned to  Paris;  but  the  following  year,  1833,  she  revisited 
London,  and  reappeared  at  the  King's  Theatre  in  La  Generen- 
tola^  with  Tamburini,  Zuchelli,  and  Donzelli.  She  performed 
also  in  La  Gazza  Ladra,  with  Rubini,  Tamburini,  and  Zuchel- 
li; in  Tancredi,  with  Madame  Pasta,  Rubini,  and  Zuchelli; 
ai.d  in  Don  Giovanni,  with  Mesdames  Castelli  and  De  Meric, 
Tamburini,  Donzelli,  Giubilei,  and  De  Begnis.  This  was  her 
last  visit  to  England. 

In  October,  1834,  after  a  long  illness,  Madame  Damoreau 
returned  to  the  Theatre  de  I'Opera,  in  Paris,  when  she  was  re- 
ceived with  acclamation  in  HoherPle  Diahle.  She  continued 
to  appear  at  the  Grand  Opera,  the  Opera  Comique,  and  in  the 
provinces,  until  the  year  1841,  when  (on  the  8th  of  May)  she 
made  her  farewell  appearance  at  the  Opera  Comique.  The 
house  was  crowded  to  the  doors,  and  she  received  the  warm- 
est demonstrations  of  admiration  and  respect.  In  the  same 
year  she  visited  St.  Petersburg,  and  on  her  return  continued 
to  sing  for  some  time  longer  in  the  provinces.  In  1843  she 
finally  retired  from  the  stage,  but  commenced  a  fresh  career 
as  a  concert-singer,  in  which  capacity  she  visited  America, 
creating  a  furore  in  Xew  York,  Boston,  Philadelphia,  and  New 
Orleans.  On  her  return  she  accepted  the  post  of  Professor  of 
Singing  at  the  Conservatoire,  and  in  1849  she  published  her 
Methode  de  Chant,  a  valuable  work,  which  was  adopted  by 
that  institution.  She  had  pi'cviously  published  an  Albnm  de 
Homanccs,  which  contains  some  very  charming  compositions. 
She  had  many  pupils,  several  of  whom  became  distinguished 
in  their  art. 

She  now  resides,  in  honored  retirement,  in  Paris. 


228  QUEEKS   OF   SONG. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

VIOLANTE    CAMPOEESE. 

YiOLANTE  Campoeese,  bom  at  Rome  in  1785,  was  one  of 
the  most  brilliant  and  popular  singers  of  the  beginning  of  the 
present  century.  Of  gentle  birth,  she  had  cultivated  music 
merely  as  an  elegant  accomplishment,  making  herself,  however, 
completely  mistress  of  the  art;  but  unforeseen  misfortunes 
compelled  her  to  convert  into  a  jn-ofession  what  had  been 
merely  a  recreation,  and  she  became  a  public  singer,  appearing 
in  the  first  instance  only  at  concerts.  She  was  then  the  wife 
of  Signer  Giustiniani,  a  gentleman  of  noble  family,  the  head  of 
which  was  alone  prevented  by  his  foreign  birth  from  claiming 
the  Scotch  earldom  of  Newburgh,  which  would  have  been  his 
by  right  of  female  descent.  Madame  Camporese — for  she  al- 
ways retained  her  maiden  name  in  public — had  never  appear^ 
ed  at  any  theatre  till  she  was  engaged  for  the  private  concerts 
of  Napoleon ;  she  sang  also  at  the  Concert  Spirituel.  Endow- 
ed with  a  jjowerful  soprano  voice  of  great  flexibility,  she  had 
already,  on  arriving  in  Paris,  developed  remarkable  talent, 
which  was  perfected  yet  more  by  the  friendly  instructions  of 
Crescentini. 

Ebers,  while  in  Pai'is,  was  introduced  to  Madame  Camporese 
in  the  autumn  of  1816,  at  the  house  of  the  celebrated  composer 
Paer.  "  She  did  me  the  favor  to  sing,  accompanied  by  that 
great  master  on  the  piano,"  says  Ebers.  "She  possesses  a 
fine-toned  voice,  of  rather  more  than  two  octaves,  reaching 
from  B  and  C  in  alt  down  to  B  and  A  below,  but  the  notes 
could  be  called  good  from  C  to  F  only,  the  others  not  being 
fine  in  their  quality.  She  cultivated  a  pure,  chaste,  and  ex- 
pressive style,  was  a  handsome  and  elegant  woman  of  oue-and- 
thirty,  with  dark  haii',  eyes,  and  complexion,  a  tall,  slender 
figure,  a  fine  Roman  countenance  full  of  tragic  dignity,  and 
features  rather  strongly  marked.  Her  manner  had  a  stately 
grace  and  irresistible  sweetness.  The  purity  and  force  of  her 
singing,  the  exquisite  quality  of  her  voice,  were  united  to  an 


VIOL  ANTE   CAMPOKESE.  ,  229 

\ 

execution  refined,  polished,  and  free  from  any  effort  at  dis- 
play." 

From  Paris  slie  went  to  Milan,  where  she  sang  at  La  Scala, 
and  the  theatre  was  crowded  nightly  while  her  engagement 
lasted.  Both  as  a  singer  and  as  a  woman  she  was  admired, 
and  many  anecdotes  are  told  of  her  kindness  of  heart  and  the 
excellence  of  her  disposition,  Ebers  relates  one :  "  An  inti- 
mate acquaintance  waited  on  her  one  morning  to  make  a  re- 
quest. In  the  hospital  for  the  insane  a  man  was  confined  lit- 
erally/cmaZeco  ^^er  la  tnusica;  he  had  lost  his  senses  on  the 
failure  of  an  opera  in  which  the  labors  of  the  composer  were 
greater  than  the  excellence  of  his  music.  This  unfortunate 
man  had  by  some  accident  heard  of  Camporese,  whose  fame 
filled  the  city,  and  immediately  conceived  an  ungovernable 
wish  to  hear  her.  For  a  while,  his  solicitations  passed  unno- 
ticed, he  grew  ungovernable,  and  had  to  be  fastened  to  his 
bed :  in  this  state  Camporese's  friend  had  beheld  him.  She 
was  dressed  for  an  evening  party  when  this  representation  was 
made  to  her,  but  she  paused  a  moment  on  hearing  it.  Then 
throwing  a  cloak  over  her  shoulders,  said,  'Come,  then.' 
'Whither?'  'To  the  Ospedale.'  'But  why?  There  is  no 
occasion  to  go  now — to-morrow  or  the  next  day.'  'To-mor- 
row !  no,  indeed ;  if  I  can  do  this  poor  man  good,  let  me  go 
instantly.'  And  they  went.  Being  shown  into  a  room  separ- 
ated from  that  of  the  maniac  musician  by  a  thin  Avall,  Campo- 
rese began  to  sing  one  of  Haydn's  melodies.  The  attendants 
in  the  next  room  observed  their  patient  suddenly  become  less 
violent,  then  composed ;  at  last  he  burst  into  tears.  The  singer 
now  entered ;  she  sat  down  and  sang  again.  When  she  had 
concluded,  the  poor  composer  took  from  under  his  bed  a  torn 
sheet  of  paper,  scored  with  an  air  of  his  own  composition,  and 
handed  it  to  her.  There  were  no  words,  nothing  in  the  music, 
but  Camporese,  running  it  over,  sang  it  to  some  words  of 
Metastasio  with  such  sweetness  that  the  music  seemed  excel- 
lent. '  Sing  it  me  once  more,'  said  the  maniac.  She  did  so, 
and  departed  accompanied  by  his  prayers  and  the  tears  of  the 
spectators." 

In  1817  she  was  engaged  at  the  King's  Theatre,  the  compa- 
ny consisting  besides  of  Madame  Fodor,  Madame  Pasta,  Cri- 
velli,  Begrez,  Naldi,  Angrisani,  and  Ambrogetti.  Crivelli  was 
a  tenor  of  the  old  school,  with  a  sonorous,  mellow  voice  of  con- 


230  QUEENS   OF   SONG. 

siderable  power,  clearness,  and  flexibility.  Some  of  his  tones 
were  excellent,  bnt,  having  lost  much  of  his  power,  he  was 
sometimes  obliged  to  force  his  voice,  thus  spoiling  the  effect 
of  a  performance  in  other  respects  admirable.  Ambrogetti, 
who  had  a  deep,  flexible,  and  rich  voice,  which  filled  the  the- 
atre with  ease,  sang  with  much  sweetness  and  fervor;  some 
of  his  tones  were  exceedingly  pure,  his  ear  was  correct,  and  he 
Vvas  free  and  spirited  in  his  acting.  He  had  a  fine  manly  fig- 
ure, well-marked  features,  and  a  dashing  air,  and  possessed  also 
a  natural  vein  of  humor,  which  rendered  his  acting  very  ani- 
mated and  vivacious. 

On  the  11th  of  January,  1817,  Madame  Camporese  appeared 
before  an  English  audience,  with  Pasta  and  Crivelli,  in  Cima- 
rosa's  serious  but  heavy  opera  <ii  Penelope^  then  performed  for 
the  first  time  in  England,  As  an  actress  she  was  not  impas- 
sioned or  powerful,  but  always  judicious  and  correct,  natural, 
and  sometimes  striking.  She  had  a  gentle,  dignified  manner, 
and  "  she  expressed  feelings  as  her  education  told  her  they 
ought  to  be  expressed ;  and  if  she  seldom  commanded  the 
tears  of  her  audience,  she  always  had  their  judgment  in  her 
favor."  Her  singing  was  of  the  pure  and  "  fine  Italian  school," 
and  her  execution  was  distinguished  by  good  taste,  which  pre- 
vented her  overtasking  he^'  powers.  Her  voice  being  deficient 
in  compass,  however,  often  led  her  to  substitute  one  passage 
for  another,  and  her  highest  notes  were  produced  with  difiicul- 
ty  and  not  without  some  slight  imperfections,  for  they  were 
rather  weak,  and  occasionally  uneven :  had  her  voice  been 
finer,  she  would  have  attained  to  the  very  highest  rank  as  a 
vocahst.  Her  taste  was  pure,  and  she  preferred  the  legitimate 
to  the  spurious  attributes  of  expression,  though  the  fashion  of 
the  day  compelled  her  to  yield  in  some  slight  degree  to  the 
rage  for  ornamentation;  but,  unlike  most  of  the  singers  of  her 
time,  she  paid  the  utmost  deference  to  the  text  of  her  part, 
and  did  not  attempt  to  improve  it  by  fanciful  embellishments. 

The  following  critique  of  Madame  Camjjorese's  singing, 
from  the  Quarterly  Musical  Mevieio,  is  just  and  discrimina- 
ting: "Her  intonation  is  generally  good,  though  not  infallible; 
and  when  it  falters  we  should  attribute  the  defect  to  indispo- 
sition, or  casual  failure  of  the  throat,  rather  than  to  the  slight- 
est error  of  judgment  or  to  want  of  ear,  for  Madame  Campo- 
rese's  science  is  indisputable.    It  is  alike  manifest  in  what  she 


VIOL  ANTE   CAMPOEESE.  231 

does  and  in  what  she  declines.  Slie  never  attempts  in  the 
way  of  ornament  wliat  slie  can  not  perfectly  execute,  Avliicli 
we  esteem  not  only  to  be  one  of  the  strongest  proofs  of  a 
knowledge  of  tbe  art,  but  of  a  quality  even  much  more  rare — 
self-knowledge.  In  the  blaze  of  execution,  which  is  the  pas- 
sion of  the  present  day,  Madame  Caraporese  does  not  affect  to 
revel  or  delight.  She  is  capable  of  performing  passages  in  a 
legitimate  method  of  the  best  school  —  either  legato  or  stac- 
cato, as  she  wills — but  hers  is  the  true  manner,  and  with  what 
we  should  term  deep-seated  articulation,  which  is  never  so  ex- 
cessively rapid  or  so  brilliant  as  that  which  is  performed  by 
the  agency  of  the  throat  with  little  aid  from  the  chest.  Xei- 
ther  is  her  voice  of  the  very  flexible  kind  that  yields  with 
equal  facility  to  all  sorts  of  divisions.  Catalani  takes  her 
hearers  by  storm,  Camporese  Avius  by  more  quiet,  more  regu- 
lar, but  not  less  certain  approaches.  Upon  the  stage  her  mild 
and  modest  sweetness  is  not  a  little  aided  by  the  enchanting 
softness  of  her  eyes,  and  by  the  exquisite  sensibility  that  illu- 
minates her  features ;  while  in  the  more  quiet  exhibitions  of 
the  orchestra  she  has  the  ladylike  air  that  distinguishes  her 
amiable  and  truly  praiseworthy  conduct  in  the  walks  of  pri- 
vate life,  to  which  she  is  no  less  an  ornament  than  to  the  pro- 
fession she  dignifies." 

"Her  sensibility  is  uncommonly  apprehensive,"  observes 
the  same  critic,  "  and  she  embodies  her  feelings  in  the  purest 
language  of  sound.  Her  decoration  is  simple  and  powerful, 
and  she  never  utters  a  word  or  a  note  in  vain.  She  sings  to 
the  heart,  and  conveys  even  in  the  little  ornament  she  uses  the 
power  of  expressiveness ;  and  elocution  or  execution,  under 
her  dominion,  ministers  to  conception,  as  disijlayed  in  intel- 
lectual grace,  and  a  rich  but  cultivated  fancy.  Her  polished 
judgment  can  distinguish,  her  taste  is  satisfied,  and  therefore 
her  ambition  can  be  content  with  moving  the  high  affections. 
In  a  word,  she  knows  and  she  supports  the  dignity  of  her 
mind  and  her  art." 

"Camporese's  voice,"  says  Lord  Mount  Edgecumbe,  "if  not 
of  the  very  finest  quality,  is  extremely  agreeable,  of  sufiicient 
power  and  compass,  and  capable  of  considerable  agility.  Iler 
singing  is  regulated  by  good  taste,  and  is  full  of  feeling  and 
expression.  In  short,  she  is  worthy  of  the  best  days  of  tbe 
art,  and,  when  she  first  came  to  this  country,  had  in  no  degree 


232  QUEENS   OP   SONG. 

adopted  the  modern  style.  She  then  sang  only  in'the  compo- 
sitions of  the  best  masters,  and  her  execution  of  them  was 
faultless." 

At  first  Madame  Camporese  was  extremely  embarrassed, 
and  did  not  make  much  impression ;  but  in  her  next  part  her 
fears  were  dispelled,  and  she  showed  that  her  defi.ciency  had 
been  caused  merely  by  want  of  knowledge  of  the  usages  of 
the  theatre.  As  Susanna,  in  Le  Nozze  di  Figaro,  she  com- 
pletely established  her  reputation,  notwithstanding  she  suc- 
ceeded Madame  Vestris  in  the  character.  Though  Madame 
Camporese  could  not  vie  with  her  fascinating  predecessor  in 
archness  or  playfulness  of  manner,  she  more  than  compensated 
for  that  inferiority  by  her  vocalization ;  and  she  infused  a 
graceful  humor  into  her  performance.  Madame  Fodor  was 
the  Countess,  and  Pasta,  Cherubino.  Don  Giovanni  was  the 
next  opera  in  which  Madame  Camporese  appeared,  and  her 
acting  and  singing  in  the  character  of  Donna  Anna  were  pa- 
thetic and  beautiful. 

In  May,  JOAgnese,  by  Paer,  the  story  of  which  was  taken 
from  Mrs.  Opie's  "  Father  and  Daughtei*,"  was  brought  out. 
The  melodies  of  this  opera  were  numerous,  and  those  which 
belonged  to  the  character  of  Agnese  were  given  with  great 
purity  and  jjathos  by  Madame  Camporese,  who  seemed  to  im- 
prove in  each  new  part.  "  She  seems  inexhaustible  in  the 
most  tasteful  embellishments  and  passages,  which  she  delivers 
with  the  most  fascinating  purity  and  delicacy  of  musical  feel- 
ing," observed  one  critic.  Ambrogetti's  representation  of  the 
unhappy  father  was  almost  appalling:  it  was  so  horrible  a 
representation  of  insanity  that  it  created  a  very  painful  sensa- 
tion. It  was  said  that  he  visited  Bedlam,  and  studied  the  ex- 
pression of  some  of  the  maniacs  there  confined,  but  in  endeav- 
oring to  make  his  representation  vivid,  he  rendered  it  too 
shocking.  Some  ladies  fainted,  others  left  the  theatre,  and 
even  the  performers  on  the  stage  were  seen  to  shed  tears,  a 
phenomenon  witnessed  for  the  first  time.  The  consequence 
was,  that  after  a  few  nights  the  opera  was  discontinued. 

In  July  La  Clemenza  di  Tito  was  given,  Camporese  repre- 
senting the  leading  male  part — Sesto.  The  noble  contour  of 
her  face  was  in  perfect  unison  with  the  character,  and  her  per- 
formance was  irreproachable.  Lord  Mount  Edgecumbe  de- 
clared that  she  gave  more  efiect  to  the  part  than  either  Bra- 


VIOLANTE   CA3IP0KESE.  233 

ham  or  Trammezzani  had  done.  Vitellia  was  performed  by 
Madame  Fodor,  and  the  two  vocalists  were  constantly  singing 
together  during  the  opera,  thus  affording  unqualified  delight 
by  the  combined  beauty  of  their  voices  and  their  expressive 
acting.  Madame  Camporese  also  sung  on  alternate  nights 
with  Madame  Fodor  at  the  Ancient  Music  and  at  the  Phil- 
harmonic Concerts. 

Ayrton,  the  manager,  though  supported  by  the  public,  find- 
ing himself  unable  to  contend  against  the  cabals  and  intrigues 
of  the  performers,  retired  at  the  end  of  the  season,  and  after  a 
career  of  unexampled  and  splendid  prosperity,  was  compelled 
to  have  recourse  to  an  action  at  law  for  the  remuneration  due 
to  him  for  his  services.  Madame  Camporese  also,  who  had 
largely  contributed  to  the  prosperity  of  the  season,  was  allowed 
to  depart  Avithout  any  arrangement  being  made  for  her  re- 
turn ;  but  this  arose  from  negligence.  Mr.  Waters  wished  to 
retain  her;  but  his  letter  offering  terms  having  miscarried, 
Signer  Giustiniani  and  Madame  Camporese  signed  articles 
with  the  theatre  at  Milan. 

In  August  she  appeared  at  La  Scala,  with  Rubini,  Crivelli, 
and  Madame  Festa,  in  La  Clemenza  di  Tito,  and  other  operas. 
Madame  Camporese  also  sang  at  Rovigo  and  Venice  in  Au- 
gust, 1819,  with  the  contralto  Bonini,  and  Bonoldi,  In  No- 
vember she  was  again  at  Milan,  with  Crivelli  and  Remorini ; 
and  in  the  following  December  the  first  performance  of  Ros- 
sini's Bianca  e  Faliero  took  place,  when  Madame  CamjDorcse 
appeared  as  Bianca,  and  Carolina  Bassi  as  Faliero. 

Her  absence  from  the  King's  Theatre  had  been  universally 
regretted,  and  she  was  engaged  by  Mr.  Waters  to  perform  in 
London  during  the  season  of  1821,  for  which  she  was  to  re- 
ceive £1550,  and  Ebers,  who  imdertook  the  management,  con- 
sented to  allow  her  an  additional  sum  weekly  for  dresses.  She 
desired  permission  to  sing  at  all  concerts,  and  this  being  grant- 
ed, she  requested  to  have  her  salary  paid  in  advance,  which 
was  also  gratified;  it  is  but  justice  to  add  that  she  took  no 
advantage  of  the  facility  with  which  her  demands  were  agreed 
to. 

"  Few  public  performers,"  says  Ebers,  "  have  received  the 
same  degree  of  countenance  in  private  circles  as  Madame  Cam- 
porese. She  was  treated  by  persons  of  the  first  quality  with 
all  the  respect  and  attention  befitting  her  talent  and  character, 


234  QUEEXS    OF   SONG. 

mingling  in  their  entertainments  not  as  merely  tolerated,  but 
recognized  as  one  whose  respectable  birth  and  connections 
qualified  her  to  mix  in  polite  society.  The  Countess  St.  An- 
tonio, one  of  the  most  distinguished  patronesses  of  the  Italian 
Opera,  was  her  firm  friend ;  so  were  the  Marquis  and  Mar- 
chioness of  Bristol ;  and  a  number  of  celebrated  names  might 
be  added." 

The  aftairs  of  the  King's  Theatre  becoming  deranged,  it  was 
not  opened  till  the  10th  of  March,  when  Rossini's  opera.  La 
Qazza  Ladra,  was  performed  for  the  fii'st  time  in  England, 
Madame  Camporese  aj^pearing  as  Ninetta.  It  was  observed 
that  her  singing  and  acting  had  visibly  improved  during  her 
three  years'  absence,  and  her  taste  and  execution  were  greatly 
admired.  The  j)opular  cavatina  "  Di  piacer"  had  been  hack- 
neyed at  every  concert  in  the  kingdom  for  the  preceding  three 
years,  yet,  as  sung  by  Madame  Camporese,  and  in  its  appro- 
priate place  in  the  oj^era,  it  was  exquisitely  fresh  and  charm- 
ing ;  and  in  her  prayer  in  the  last  scene  she  affected  the  fash- 
ionable audience  to  tears. 

As  Listou  believed  his  genius  lay  in  tragedy,  so  the  digni- 
fied, stately  Madame  Camporese  fancied  that  she  should  shine 
in  comic  as  well  as  in  serious  parts,  and,  fired  with  ambition, 
probably  from  witnessing  the  charming  impersonations  of 
Ronzi  di  Begnis,  she  made  up  her  mind  that  she  too  would 
prove  her  versatility.  In  Mozart's  operas,  as  in  many  of  Shak- 
speare's  plays,  there  is  a  choice  of  first  parts  for  the  leading 
performers :  the  Countess  and  Susanna  in  Figaro^  Donna  Anna 
and  Zerlina  in  Don  Giovanni^  are  of  equal  imjDortance.  As 
the  Countess,  Madame  Camporese  Avas  dignified  and  high-bred, 
and  as  Donna  Anna  she  was  truthful  and  imj)ressive,  but  not 
a  scintillation  of  the  vis  comica  enlivened  her  countenance ; 
indeed,  her  style  was  altogether  serious ;  yet,  as  Catalani  had 
performed  the  arch  Susanna,  and  Fodor,  by  her  beauty  and 
vivacity,  rendered  the  coquettish  Zerlina  j^opular,  Madame 
Camporese  insisted  that  she  also  should  play  gay  and  graceful 
characters.  She  therefore  resigned  her  own  repertoire  to  Ma- 
dame Ronzi  di  Begnis,  who  thus  had  an  opportunity  of  dis- 
playing her  versatility  and  sprightliness,  and  commenced  with 
performing  Zerlina.  However,  she  had  the  good  sense  not  to 
persevere  in  her  mistake. 

In  1822  Madame  Camporese  was  again  engaged;  the  new 


VIOLANTE   CAMPOKESE.  235 

singers  were  Mdlle.  Cinti,  and  Mesdames  Caradori  and  Grazi- 
ani.  Rosalbina  Caradori  was  an  excellent  singer,  and  consid- 
ered a  valuable  acquisition  to  the  theatre.  "  With  those  whose 
object  it  is  to  be  pleased  rather  than  astonished,"  remarks 
Ebers,  *'  Caradori  is  a  leading  favorite.  The  mellow  sweetness 
of  her  voice,  so  soft,  so  touching,  was  united  with  the  truest 
expression  of  the  feeling  of  what  she  sang ;  nor  did  she  ever 
sing  without  calling  forth  emotions  at  once  tender  and  power- 
ful in  all  who  heard  her."  As  an  actress  she  was  graceful  and 
elegant.  These  three  new  performers,  together  with  Canipo- 
rese  and  Rouzi  di  Begnis,  constituted  the  female  corps  of  the 
Opera ;  the  male  singers  of  the  last  season  were  retained,  with 
the  addition  of  Cartoni  and  Cerutti ;  Cartoni,  a  baritone,  hav- 
ins  been  eno-asred  at  the  recommendation  of  Madame  Cam- 
porese. 

The  Kincc's  Theatre  was  now  under  the  direction  of  a  com- 
mittee  of  noblemen,  Mr.  Ebers  being  the  proprietor.  It  open- 
ed on  the  12th  of  January  withie  Nozze  di  Figaro^  in  which 
Madame  Camporesc,  Ronzi  di  Begnis,  Ambrogetti,  and  Placci, 
and  Signora  Caradori,  appeared.  Madame  Camporese  earned 
fresh  laurels  by  her  performance  of  Desdemona  in  Rossini's 
Otdlo.  The  purity  and  force  of  her  singing,  the  tenderness 
'and  delicacy  of  her  expression  in  this  character,  elicited  uni- 
versal admiration ;  and  it  was  among  the  highest  of  her  tri- 
umphs. 

The  Vocal  Concerts,  conducted  by  Messrs.  Knyvett  and 
Greatorex,  having  expired  at  the  end  of  this  season,  a  new  se- 
ries was  projected  by  them  at  the  Argyll  Rooms,  their  pro- 
fessed object  being  "  to  rescue  our  national  music  from  perish- 
ing in  the  vast  vortex  of  the  Italian  Opera."  But,  with  sin- 
gular inconsistency,  they  engaged  Madame  Camporesc,  an  Ital- 
ian^ from  the  King's  Theatre,  as  their  principal  singer,  over- 
lookino-  the  numerous  brilliant  Enc^lish  vocalists  who  were  then 
popular,  including  Miss  Stephens,  Miss  Paton,and  Mrs.  Salmon. 

Madame  Camporese  was  engaged  again  at  the  King's  The- 
atre in  1823,  and  steadily  resisted,  as  far  as  possible,  the  rage 
for  fioriture,  Avhich  the  resplendent  execution  of  Billington, 
the  almost  unlimited  powers  of  Catalani,  and  the  extraordinary 
popularity  of  Rossini's  compositions  had  brought  into  fashion. 
At  a  provincial  meeting  in  the  January  of  this  year  she  sang 
"Ah,  pci'dona"  with  another  vocalist  eminent  for  facility  of 


236  QUEENS   OP   SONG. 

florid  execution,  and  after  the  rehearsal  Madame  Camporese 
remarked  to  a  lady  with  whom  she  was  conversing  that  the 
vocal  ornamentation  of  her  competitor  was  likely  to  cany  off 
all  the  applause.  "  But,"  added  the  judicious  and  sensitive 
Italian, "  so  it  must  be,  for  I  really  can  not — nor  dare  not — in- 
sert a  note  in  a  melody  so  beautiful."  This  prognostication, 
however,  was  not  fulfilled,  "  for  Madame  Camporese  bore  off 
the  palm,  and  received  the  marked  plaudits  of  the  audience  as 
the  reward  of  her  sound  judgment  and  really  fine  taste." 

The  critics,  indeed,  were  now  loudly  complaining  of  the  ex- 
cessive ornamentation  with  which  most  singers  disfigured  their 
performances.  "  Great  artists,"  said  one,  "  lead  and  form  the 
general  taste.  The  florid  style,  though  it  has  obtained  in  En- 
gland, has  never  been  seriously  appreciated.  Judgment  ab- 
jures it  both  in  theory  and  practice.  It  is  always  mentioned 
in  abatement  rather  than  in  exaltation  of  the  merits  of  the  in- 
dividuals who  indulge  in  its  exercise.  It  has  formed  a  great 
drawback  upon  Braham's  reputation,  though  it  may  have  added 
to  his  popularity.  In  Garcia  it  is  considered  as  a  means  (most 
scientifically  used,  indeed)  of  covering  the  ravages  of  time.  In 
Sinclair  it  is  thought  perfectly  despicable." 

For  her  benefit  Madame  Camporese  brought  out  Rossini's 
Micciardo  e  Zordlde,  which  gave  great  satisfaction.  She  was 
also  much  admired  in  Mercadante's  Elisa  e  Claiedio,  a  light 
and  pleasing  opera.  On  the  5th  of  August  she  took  her  leave 
in  Micciardo  e  Zordide,  on  the  conclusion  of  which  she  was  re- 
warded with  the  most  enthusiastic  plaudits.  She  was  engaged 
for  the  York  Festival,  but  felt  herself  obliged  to  relinquish  the 
xmdertaking  from  the  delicate  state  of  her  health,  which  de- 
manded a  warmer  climate. 

In  1824  Madame  Camporese  again  returned  to  London,  but 
her  voice  had  aged.  Sontag  and  Malibran,  in  the  bloom  of 
their  beauty,  their  talent,  and  their  vocal  jDOwers,  were  then  at 
the  King's  Theatre,  and  Pasta  had  the  musical  world  at  her 
feet. 

Madame  Camporese  was  a  sensible  woman,  and  the  last  per- 
son in  the  world  to  make  herself  ridiculous.  She  plainly  saw 
the  time  had  arrived  for  her  to  retire,  and  she  gracefully  took 
leave  and  went  to  Rome  to  pass  an  honorable  and  peaceful 
life  in  the  enjoyment  of  the  ease  which  she  had  nobly  earned. 
Once  only  was  she  drawn  from  her  retirement  to  public  life. 


VIOLAJJfTE   CAMPOEESE.  237 

In  September,  1827,  she  sang  at  the  Teatro  delle  Muse,  An- 
cona,  in  Rossini's  Aureliano  in  Palmira. 

Madame  Camj^orese  resided  at  Rome  under  her  proper  name 
of  Giustiniani,  living  in  strict  retirement,  and  never  singing  out 
of  her  own  house.  She  was  pleased  to  have  opportunities  of 
showing  civilities  to  the  English  visitors,  and  gracefully  testi- 
fied her  consciousness  that  to  England  she  owed  her  celebrity. 


238  QUEERS    or   SONG. 


CHAPTER  XIX, 

EOSAHUXDA    PISAEOXI. 

At  Plaisance,  a  town  in  the  department  of  Gars,  in  the  south 
of  France,  -was  born,  Februaiy  6, 1785,  Rosamunda  Benedetta 
Pisaroui,  one  of  the  most  striking  examples  of  innate  genius 
and  perseverance  overcoming  the  most  discoui'agiug  disadvan- 
tages that  could  impede  the  career  of  a  vocalist. 

An  obscure  master  named  Pino  gave  Pisaroni  her  first  les- 
sons,  and  at  the  age  of  twelve  she  was  placed  under  the  direc- 
tion of  tlie  soprano  Moschini,  then  in  the  service  of  the  Viceroy 
of  Italy  at  Milan.  Having  acquired  from  him  the  art  of  sing- 
iug,  according  to  the  principles  of  the  ancient  school,  she  re- 
ceived finishing  lessons  from  Marchesi,  who  imparted  to  her 
that  largeness  of  style,  that  breadth  and  power,  which  charac- 
terized the  admired  school  of  the  eighteenth  century.  One 
day,  after  a  lesson  entirely  dedicated  to  studying  a  single 
phrase  of  recitative,  Marchesi  exclaimed  to  his  pupil,  with  a 
sigh  whicli  came  from  his  heart, "  We  poor  singers  have  much 
to  complain  of.  In  youth  we  have  voice  and  ardor  without 
experience,  and,  when  experience  has  arrived,  voice  and  ardor 
have  vanished."  Owing  to  the  judicious  counsels  of  this  cele- 
brated master,  Rosamunda  became  a  great  singer,  spite  of  the 
defects  of  her  vocal  organ,  and  of  an  ap2)earance  rendered  al- 
most repulsive  by  the  ravages  of  small-pox. 

Most  of  her  biographers  have  affirmed  that  her  voice  was 
originally  a  contralto,  which  gradually  extended  its  register 
upward ;  but  it  was  exactly  the  reverse.  When  Madame  Pisa- 
roni made  her  debut  at  Bergamo  in  the  summer  of  1811,  at  the 
age  of  sixteen,  she  performed  as  a  high  soj^rano  in  the  parts 
of  Griselda,  Camilla,  and  others  of  the  rej^ertoire  of  that  peri- 
od. She  was  much  applauded  at  Bergamo,  and  was  invited  to 
Verona  in  the  following  season,  where  the  success  which  she 
obtained  spread  her  name  through  Italy.  Toward  the  end 
of  1812  she  went  to  Palermo,  meeting  with  a  warm  welcome; 


ROSAMUND  A   PISAKO^TT.  239 

and  was  called  to  Pavraa  at  the  commencement  of  1813.  Here 
she  had  a  long  and  serious  illness.  She  lost  some  of  the  upper 
notes  of  her  voice,  while,  on  the  contrary,  the  lower  tones  ac- 
quired extent  and  force.  Obliged  to  renounce  her  first  en- 
gagements as  soprano,  she  took  those  for  a  contralto,  and  after 
a  time  her  voice  acquired  such  depth  and  mellowness  of  tone, 
that  she  might  have  justly  claimed  the  title  of  the  first  con- 
tralto in  Italy  but  for  some  notes  with  an  unpleasant  guttural 
accent. 

At  Padua,  in  1818,  Meyerbeer,  then  a  very  young  man,  wrote 
for  Pisaroni  his  Romilda  e  Costanza.  The  Paduans,  desirous 
of  showing  favor  to  Meyerbeer,  gave  a  brilliant  welcome  to  his 
work,  recosnizino-  the  merits  of  the  musician  and  the  talent  of 
the  sincrer.  Pisaroni  then  went  to  the  San  Carlo,  where  she 
appeared  in  Rossini's  Rkciardo  e  Zorakle.  In  January,  1819, 
she  was  again  at  Naples.  Mercadante's  opera  oi  LodoisJca  was 
written  for  her  debut ;  and  the  singer  was  applauded,  but  the 
music  was  not  liked.  In  October  of  the  same  year  she  ap- 
l)eared  as  Malcolm  in  La  Donna  del  Lago.  The  entrance  of 
Malcolm  in  the  first  act  is  accompanied  by  a  fanfiirc  of  trum- 
pets ;  and  when,  above  the  clang  of  the  instruments,  the  loud, 
clear,  firm,  and  full  tones  of  Madame  Pisaroni's  voice  Avere 
heard  distinctly,  an  electric  eflect  was  produced  on  the  audi- 
ence. 

In  1822  Madame  Pisaroni  was  in  Milan  with  Lablache. 
Meyerbeer  composed  for  them  his  L'Eside  di  Granata ;  but 
there  was  so  much  delay  in  preparing  this  opera  that  it  was 
not  broufjht  out  till  the  end  of  the  Carnival.  Tliis  Avas  the 
cause  of  its  being  nearly  condemned,  and  it  was  only  saved  by 
a  duet  between  Pisaroni  and  Lablache  in  the  second  act. 

In  the  sprmg  of  1823  Pisaroni  appeared  at  the  Teatro  Ar- 
gentina, Rome,  in  Rossini's  Donna  del  Lago^  and  in  Novem- 
ber of  the  same  year  she  performed  at  Lucca,  Avith  Madame 
Ferlotti  and  Tacchinardi,  when  Pacini  Avrote  for  them  an  ope- 
ra called  Temistode.  She  again  sang  at  the  Argentina  in  the 
beginning  of  1824,  at  Bologna  in  the  early  summer,  and  then 
returned  to  the  Argentina,  Avhere  the  Zoraide  di  Granata  of 
Donizetti,  produced  two  years  previously  at  that  theatre,  Avas 
revived  with  ncAV  airs  and  concerted  pieces.  In  1825  Madame 
Pisaroni  Avas  at  Milan,  Avhen  La  Donna  del  Lago  was  repro- 
duced Avith  considerable  cftcct,  and  Avas  followed  by  Semira- 


240  QUEENS   OF  SONG. 

micU  and  other  operas,  and  in  the  beginning  of  1826  she  was 
sin  win  o-  at  Genoa. 

After  singing  at  Genoa,  Leghorn,  Florence,  and  Rome,  Pisa- 
roni  arrived  in  182'7  at  Paris. 

The  Parisian  Opera  and  the  Theatre  Itahen  were,  in  1826, 
under  the  direction  of  M.  le  Vicomte  Sosthenes  de  Rochefou- 
cault.  The  Grand  Opera  had  altogether  decayed.  From  1822 
to  1826  the  ballet  alone  sustained  the  establishment,  and  so 
bad  had  the  music  become,  that  a  Parisian  wit  proj^osed  the 
following  inscription  for  the  fa9ade  of  the  theatre :  "  This  is 
the  Paradise  of  the  eyes,  and  the  Hell  of  the  ears."  At  last 
M.  le  Vicomte  was  struck  with  the  happy  idea  of  bringing  for- 
ward the  chefs-cVceuvre  of  French  music,  and  Gliick's  Armida 
was  accordingly  revived  in  1826;  but  on  the  third  night  it 
was  played  to  empty  benches.  M.  le  Vicomte  relinquished  the 
administration  of  both  Opera-houses  in  1827,  and  was  replaced 
by  M.  Lubert,  a  man  of  talent  and  decision,  who  commenced 
operations  vigorously.  He  engaged  Malibran,  who  had  just 
ai'rived  in  Paris  from  America,  and  he  also  engaged  Pisaroni, 
about  whom  there  was  great  excitement  among  the  amateurs. 

Madame  Pisaroni  made  her  debut  in  the  character  of  Arsace, 
in  Semiramide,  This  opera,  which  contains  some  magnificent 
passages,  and  so  many  beautiful  melodies,  was  well  suited  to 
display  to  evei'y  advantage  the  rich  endowments  of  the  superb 
contralto.  "  I  shall  never,"  says  Fetis,  "  forget  the  effect  which 
she  produced  on  the  audience  when  she  came  on  the  stage, 
and,  turning  her  back  to  the  public,  gazing  at  the  interior  of 
the  temple,  uttered  in  a  sonorous  voice,  admirably  2^osee,  this 
phrase,  JSccotni  aljin  in  Sahilonia !  Unanimous  transports 
welcomed  these  vigorous  accents,  and  this  large  manner,  so 
rare  in  our  days  ;  but  when  the  singer  turned  and  exposed  to 
view  her  features,  disfigured  by  small-pox,  a  sort  of  cry  of  ter- 
ror succeeded  to  the  enthusiasm,  and  the  spectators  closed 
their  eyes  to  enjoy  the  talent  without  being  obliged  to  look  at 
the  performer."  Then  a  mingled  storm  of  applause  and  laugh- 
ter arose  ;  but,  before  the  end  of  the  representation,  her  genius 
had  obtained  a  complete  victory,  for  the  full  and  sonorous 
voice  of  Madame  Pisaroni  displayed  an  infinity  of  fine  effects 
whereof  no  previous  Arsace  had  dreamt.  The  fullness  and 
fervor  of  her  tones,  the  vigor  and  finish  of  her  style,  the 
breadth  and  force  of  her  impersonation  of  the  character,  exer- 


ROSAMUND  A  PISAEONI.  241 

cised  an  irresistible  charm ;  aud,  dazzled  by  her  splendid  talent, 
the  audience  soon  ceased  to  think  of  the  forbidding  Uneaments 
of  Madame  Pisaroni. 

This  admirable  singer  always  bore  the  remarks  on  her  want 
of  beauty  Avith  good  humor,  and  it  is  said  that,  when  applied 
to  by  the  management  to  smg  at  Paris,  she  sent  her  portrait, 
baymg  that  she  was  even  uglier  than  her  likeness. 

"  The  purity  and  uniformity  of  her  tone,"  says  one  writer ; 
"  the  noble  simplicity  of  her  declamation ;  the  accurate  articu- 
lation both  of  syllables  and  sounds ;  the  gradual  melting  and 
assimilation  of  tone  from  the  most  powerful  '  messa  di  voce' 
to  the  softest  jDianissimo ;  always  in  keeping,  and  never  vio- 
lent ;  the  retention  of  legitimate  and  the  rejection  of  meretri- 
cious ornament ;  and,  lastly,  the  power  of  bending  all  these 
elements  to  the  changeful  purjioses  of  expression,  declared  at 
once  the  mind,  the  training,  and  the  experience  of  the  gifted 
artist."  Madame  Pisaroni's  intonation  was  perfect,  her  voice 
was  pure,  rich  —  particularly  in  the  lower  part  of  the  scale — 
sweet,  and  uniform.  "  This  last  attribute  is  the  more  extraor- 
dinary, because  the  rule  of  formation,  the  preservation  of  a 
similar  position  of  the  lips  aud  other  parts  of  the  mouth  dur- 
ing the  production  of  the  voice,  is  rarely  observed  for  a  sec- 
ond of  time  by  this  lady.  The  change  is  indeed  so  manifest 
as  to  afford  matter  for  curious  inquiry.  Her  voice  has  great 
volume,  but  it  has  not  the  imposing  power  of  Catalani,  or  even 
of  Pasta." 

Her  second  part  in  Paris  was  that  of  Malcolm,  in  which  she 
re-established  the  beautiful  cavatina  which  Madame  Pasta  had 
transjilanted  to  Otello.  Pisaroni  appeared  with  Malibran,  Au- 
gust 1,  in  a  new  opera  by  Morlacchi,  Tebaldo  ed  Isolina. 
There  was  a  decided  jealousy  between  Malibran  and  Pisaroni, 
or  at  least  between  their  partisans.  One  night  they  appeared 
together  in  Semiramide,  when  each  sought  to  display  her  gifts 
to  the  greatest  advantage.  In  the  grand  duo,  there  arose  be- 
tween these  two  wonderful  artistes  one  of  those  chivalrous 
combats  which  leave  their  traces  in  the  memory  of  amateurs. 
"  Madame  Malibran,  who  had  the  impetuosity  and  caprice  of 
a  genius  entirely  spontaneous,"  says  Scudo,  "had  accumulated 
on  the  2>hrase  of  the  allegro  of  this  fine  morceau  all  the  wealth 
of  a  florid  vocalization,  Avith  Avhich  the  audience  Avere  more 
dazzled  than  charmed.  In  responding  to  her  young  and  glo- 
16  L  " 


242  QUEENS    OF   SONG. 

rious  rival,  Madame  Pisaroni  sang  with  such  simplicity,  breadtli 
of  style,  and  concentrated  emotion,  that  she  changed  places 
with  the  Queen  of  Babylon,  especially  when  they  heard  a  di- 
lettante exclaim, '^rauo/  questo  h  il  vero  cantoP  ('This  is 
the  true  method  of  singing!')"  The  public  were  bewildered, 
and  a  momentary  silence  broke  immediately  into  a  tornado  of 
applause. 

In  1828  there  arose  at  the  Theatre  Italien  one  of  those  bit- 
ter musical  contests  such  as  occurred  between  Handel  and 
Porpora,  Cuzzoni  and  Faustina,  FarineUi  and  Senesino,  Gliick 
and  Piccini,  Mara  and  Todi,  Fodor  and  Pasta.  The  combat- 
ants on  this  occasion  ranged  themselves  under  the  respective 
standards  of  Pisaroni  and  Sontag,  and  gave  unequivocal  signs 
both  of  enthusiasm  and  injustice.  The  artistes,  driven  to  ri- 
valry in  spite  of  themselves  by  their  j^artisans,  and  urged  to 
fresh  efforts,  were  heard  to  the  utmost  advantage.  The  two 
operas  in  which  the  talents  of  Madame  Pisaroni  and  Mdlle. 
Sontag  were  chiefly  brought  into  contrast  were  ia  Donna 
del  Lago  and  Tancredl,  and  in  both  there  was  a  wide  field  for 
the  display  of  the  peculiar  gifts  of  each.  In  the  celebrated 
duet  from  Hianca  e  Fcdiero^  which  was  introduced  into  the 
Donna  delLago^  Mdlle.  Sontag  was  particularly  happy  in  some 
of  her  closing  passages,  and  it  was  remarked  with  pleasure 
that  Madame  Pisaroni  (now  called  the  Veteran,  from  her 
knowledge  of  the  stage)  frequently  gave  a  smile  of  encourage- 
ment to  her  young  rival ;  for  they  were  not  vindictive  foes, 
but  rather  like  two  generous  competitors  contending  for  the 
sake  of  fame. 

Madame  Pisaroni  was  engaged  in  1S29  at  the  King's  Thea- 

CD      CD  O 

tre,  then  under  the  management  of  Laporte,  with  Sontag  and 
Malibran.  The  tenor  was  Donzelli,  a  Bolognese,  at  that  time 
thirty  years  of  age,  and  who  had  sung  for  some  years  in  Italy. 
Mercadante  had  written  for  him  his  opera  oi Elisa  e  Glaudio. 
At  Vienna,  in  1822,  he  had  produced  a  sensation  which  attract- 
ed the  attention  of  the  directors  of  the  Theatre  Italien  in 
Paris,  who  engaged  him,  and  he  had  come  from  thence  to 
London.  His  voice  was  a  pure  tenor  of  great  compass,  capa- 
ble of  much  variety  of  inflection,  and  he  possessed  musical 
taste  and  discrimination.  There  was  a  fullness  and  richness 
in  his  tones,  and  an  equality  in  his  high  and  low  notes  which 
rendered  his  singing  imsurpassed  in  smoothness  and  beauty. 


KOSAMUNDA   PISARONI.  243 

On  the  31st  of  January  Madame  Pisaroni  made  her  first  ap- 
pearance in  England  as  jMalcolm,  in  Rossini's  opera  La  Don- 
na del  Logo,  the  character  Avhich  had  so  greatly  contributed 
to  raise  her  musical  and  dramatic  fame  in  Europe.  Mdlle. 
Mouticelli,  another  debutante,  performed  Elena.  When  Ma- 
dame Pisaroni  ajDpeared  in  the  picturesque  costume  of  Mal- 
colm, she  was  received  with  a  burst  of  applause,  and  the  pow- 
er and  brilliancy  of  her  voice,  combined  with  her  dramatic 
talent,  more  than  compensated  for  defects  in  physical  attri- 
butes ;  for  it  was  immediately  apparent  that  her  musical  taste 
and  dramatic  tact  were  perfect.  It  was  also  perceived,  how- 
ever, that  her  voice  was  worn  and  somewhat  exhausted :  its 
youthful  freshness  was  gone,  and  it  had  evidently  been  tried 
by  continual  eiforts;  and  with  all  her  consummate  art,  the 
gifted  cantatrice  was  unable  to  conceal  this  painful  fact. 
"  Still,  there  is  nothing  offensive  to  the  ear,"  the  critics  ac- 
knowledged ;  "  nothing  that  takes  from  the  expression.  The 
feeling  is  that  there  was  a  period  when  it  was  probably  more 
beautiful — beautiful  as  it  remains." 

In  Ultaliana  in  Algieri,  which  was  revived  February  1 7, 
Pisaroni  performed  Isabella,  and  the  influence  of  di'ess  was 
here  strikingly  exemplified,  for  in  a  plain  brown  silk  dress 
and  a  fashionable  white  hat  she  looked  almost  handsome. 
Her  singing  was  delightful,  and  she  acted  with  so  much  ani- 
mation and  comic  humor  that  the  house  re-echoed  with 
laughter. 

In  Rossini's  Hicciardo  e  Zoraide,  injudiciously  compressed 
into  one  act,  Madame  Pisaroni  appeared  as  Zomira,  in  a  superb 
costume,  to  overcome  as  far  as  possible  her  personal  defects ; 
but  she  had  not  much  opportunity  of  displaying  her  fine  vocal 
powers.  For  her  benefit,  on  May  14,  she  selected  Semiramide., 
and  appeared  as  Arsacc,  Sontag  personating  the  Assyrian 
Queen.  Pisaroni  appeared  on  one  occasion  (May  25)  with 
Malibran,  in  Semiramide,  and  the  performance  of  these  two 
magnificent  artistes  in  this  opera  will  long  be  remembered  by 
those  who  heard  it. 

On  the  termination  of  the  season  Madame  Pisaroni  left  En- 
gland and  never  returned.  Notwithstanding  her  acknowl- 
edged powers,  she  had  been  a  comparative  fa'^nre,  partly  ow- 
ing to  the  unfortunate  selection  of  operas,  and  partly  to  the 
habft  English  audiences  had  (at  tJiat  time)  of  "hearing  with 


244  QUEENS    OP   SONG. 

their  eyes,  and  looking  for  an  accomplished  singer  only  in  the 
face." 

Madame  Pisaroni  sang  during  the  season  of  1829-30  at  the 
Theatre  Italien,  with  Malibran  and  Sontag ;  and  in  the  sum- 
mer of  1830  she  was  singing  at  La  Scala  with  Pasta,  Giuditta 
Grisi,  Luciano  Fornasari,  Rubini,  Lahlache,  and  Davide.  From 
Milan  Pisaroni  went  to  Cadiz  (in  1830),  where  she  staid  two 
years.  In  1835  and  1836  she  sang  again  in  Turin,  but,  not 
meeting  with  the  favor  which  had  hitherto  welcomed  her,  she 
wisely  determined  on  retiring  to  her  native  town,  where  she 
lived  in  well-earned  and  honorable  ease. 

The  career  of  this  magnificent  singer  and  actress  illustrates 
the  power  possessed  by  vocal  and  histrionic  talents,  combined 
in  perfection,  to  overcome  the  impression  of  personal  defects ; 
at  the  same  time  exemplifying  the  influence  which  female 
beauty  exerts  over  the  public,  especially  the  audience  of  ope- 
ratic performances.  The  charms  of  a  lovely  countenance  and 
graceful  form  are  a  source  of  pleasure  to  the  mind  as  well  as 
the  eye;  and  audiences  of  refined  taste,  whose  perceptions 
have  been  rendered  highly  sensitive  by  the  "  concord  of  sweet 
sounds,"  can  not  but  be  powerfully,  if  unconsciously,  influ- 
enced by  the  jDcrsonal  attractions  of  a  singer.  Indeed,  the  ap- 
Ijearance  of  a  beautiful  woman,  set  ofi"  with  all  the  aids  of  ele- 
gant costume  on  the  lyric  stage,  and  delighting  the  eye  by  her 
graceful  gestures,  Avhile  the  ear  is  charmed  with  the  most  ex- 
quisite vocal  and  instrumental  music,  exercises  a  fascination 
which  is  irresistible:  it  more  often  occurs  that  vocal  defi- 
ciencies are  overlooked  where  the  singer  is  attractive  in  per- 
son and  manner,  than  that  personal  defects  are  lost  sight  of  in 
the  blaze  of  brilliant  talents.  On  the  stage  the  eye  must  be 
gratified,  for  it  is  through  the  eye  as  well  as  the  ear  that  the 
mind  is  aflected  in  opera. 

That  Madame  Pisaroni  succeeded  in  overcoming  the  start- 
ling efiect  of  her  ugly  face  and  ungainly  figure  is  a  powerful 
test  of  the  force  of  her  genius,  manifested  in  the  surjarising 
beauty  and  grandeur  of  her  lyric  performances.  Indeed,  the 
efiect  of  her  singing  and  acting  was  such  as  to  produce  a  reac- 
tion in  her  favor,  and  her  audience  soon  ceased  to  regard  her 
personal  disadvantages  when  under  the  sway  of  her  command- 
ing powers.  The  same  magical  influence  that  made  playgoers 
of  a  former  generation  think 


KOSAMUNDA   PISAROOT.  245 

"Pritchard  genteel,  and  Garrick  six  feet  high," 
and  that  caused  those  of  a  later  day,  when  under  the  powerful 
spell  of  the  elder  Kean's  fiery  genius,  to  lose  all  consciousness 
of  his  small  stature,  was  exerted  by  Madame  Pisaroni. 

Not  only  was  the  critical  car  of  the  musician  satisfied,  but 
the  most  languid  listener  was  charmed,  and  her  energetic  act- 
ing in  some  instances  showed  "the  deformed  transformed" 
into  the  ideal  character  she  personated. 


246  _     QUEENS   OF   SONG. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

/  GIUDITTA     PASTA. 

When  Mr.  Ayrton  undertook  the  management  of  the  King's 
Theatre  in  1816,  he  commenced  his  task  Avith  an  enthusiastic 
desire  to  render  the  Opera  attractive,  not  merely  by  an  array 
of  brilliant  talent,  but  by  that  perfection  in  the  representation 
of  the  works  of  the  great  masters  which  was  due  alike  to  the 
composer  and  the  audience.  He  had  engaged  several  vocal- 
ists of  talent,  nearly  all  of  whom  were  to  be  heard  in  England 
for  the  first  time.  When  at  the  house  of  M.  Paer,  in  Paris,  he 
met  with  Signer  and  Madame  Pasta,  a  tenor  and  a  mezzo-so- 
prano, and  engaged  both  for  the  ensuing  season,  at  the  modest 
salary  of  four  hundred  pounds  for  the  two. 

Giuditta  Pasta  was  then  eighteen.  She  was  born  at  Sarra- 
no,  near  Milan,  in  1798,  of  a  Jewish  family  named  Negri.  She 
received  her  first  lessons  in  music  from  Bartolomeo  Lotte, 
chapel-master  of  the  Cathedral  of  Como,  and  was  admitted  at 
the  age  of  fifteen  to  the  Conservatorio  of  Milan,  then  under 
the  direction  of  Asiola.  In  1815  she  left  the  Conservatorio, 
and,  making  her  early  essays  at  the  theatre  of  an  amateur,  ob- 
tained engagements  at  the  second-rate  theatres  of  Leghorn, 
Parma,  and  Brescia,  appearing  only  in  subordinate  parts,  her 
voice  and  style  at  that  time  unfitting  her  for  any  other.  In 
1816  she  sang,  together  with  Mdlle.  Ciuti,  Miss  Corri,  and 
some  other  young  debutantes,  in  the  train  of  the  haughty  Ma- 
dame Catalani,  at  the  Favart,  being  precisely  the  kind  of  sub- 
ordinate vocalist  suited  to  one  of  ]Madame  Catalani's  exacting 
disposition,  for  she  attracted  no  attention  whatever.  Pasta, 
when  first  seen  in  London,  only  appeared  as  a  glimmering  little 
star  just  risen  above  the  horizon,  in  the  sunblaze  of  the  fame 
of  Fodor  and  Camporese.  As  for  her  husband,  finding  there 
would  be  no  chance  Avhatever  for  him  in  competition  with  a 
singer  like  Crivelli,  he  wisely  relinquished  all  idea  of  making 
a  debut.  The  King's  Theatre  opened  January  11,  1817,  with 
Cimarosa's  opera  of  Penelope^  Madame  Camporese  taking  the 


^Iv  ''^ 


UADAllB  PA6TA. 


• 


GxUDITTA    PASTA.  249 

leading  part,  and  as  one  of  the  papers  said,  "  two  subordinate 
singers,  named  Pasta  and  Mori,  came  forward  also,  in  the  chai'- 
acters  of  Telemaco  and  Aisinoc,  but  their  musical  talent  does 
not  require  minute  delineation." 

Giuditta  Pasta's  voice  was  hard  and  unequal,  and  she  had 
the  greatest  difficulty  in  managing  it,  while  its  natural  tone 
was  far  from  being  perfect.  She  had  expi-ession,  and  could 
descend  from  the  sharp  notCb  of  the  soprano  to  the  grave  tones 
of  the  contralto ;  but  she  always  wanted  flexibility,  and  did 
not  appear  to  advantage  in  bravura  music:  some  persons,  how- 
ever, perceived  in  her  the  germs  of  future  excellence.  In  ap- 
pearance she  was  below  the  n  edium  height,  but  admirably 
proportioned,  with  a  queenly  Reman  head  and  beautiful  fea- 
tures, a  high  forehead,  dark  expressive  eyes,  exquisitely  form- 
ed lips,  and  a  finely  shaped  nose.  The  serious  cast  of  her 
countenance,  and  the  simple  majesty  of  her  air,  denoted  that 
her  genius  lay  in  the  loftiest  walk  of  tragedy,  especially  as  she 
had  much  dramatic  energy,  while  her  gestures  anil  her  atti- 
tudes were  noble  and  graceful. 

She  next  appeared  as  Cherubino  in  the  Nozze  di  Figaro,  in 
which  she  performed  very  creditably.  She  also  appeared  in 
Paer's  Agnese  with  Madame  Camporese  and  Signer  Ambro- 
getti ;  and  when  La  Clemenza  di  Tito  was  brought  forward. 
Pasta  was  given  the  part  of  Servilia,  Avhich  she  went  through 
very  well,  but  Avith  some  of  the  awkwardness  of  inexperience. 
She  also  performed  the  role  of  the  pretended  shrew  in  II 
Shagllo  Fortunato,  by  Ferrari. 

It  could  not  be  disguised  at  the  close  of  the  season  that 
poor  Madame  Pasta,  though  sometimes  spoken  kindly  of  by 
the  critics,  had  proved  a  "  failure."  She  meditated  deeply  on 
the  causes  of  her  non-success,  and  felt  the  impetus  of  genius 
which  urges  those  gifted  Avilh  the  spark  of  divine  fire  to  per- 
severe ;  so  she  returned  to  Italy  and  studied  assiduously  for 
more  than  a  year,  under  the  guidance  of  M.  Scappa.  An  En- 
glish nobleman  who  saw  her  in  Italy  at  this  time  said  that  her 
exertions  were  unremitting.  "  Other  singers,"  said  he,  "  find 
themselves  endowed  with  a  voice,  and  leave  every  thing  else 
to  chance.  This  woman  leaves  nothing  to  chance,  and  her 
success  is  therefore  certain." 

That  success  was  awaiting  her  reappearance  in  Italy.  She 
created  a  marked  sensation  when  she  made  her  debut  afresh 

L2 


250  QUEENS    OF   SO-^.TO. 

in  Venice  in  1819.  At  Rome,  in  April  of  that  year,  she  per- 
formed men's  parts  at  the  Argentina,  with  Tacchinardi, in  such 
operas  as  Rossini's  Aurelicmo  in,  Palmira^  Mayer's  Danae, 
NicoHni's  Cesare  nelle  Gallie,  and  in  1820  she  appeared  at 
Milan  and  Trieste.  In  the  autumn  of  1821  she  was  engaged 
at  the  Theatre  Italien  of  Paris,  where  she  fixed  the  attention 
of  the  fastidious  French  public ;  but  it  was  at  Verona,  during 
the  Congress  of  1822,  that  she  obtained  her  great  success. 
She  then  returned  to  Paris,  reappearing  at  the  Italiens,  March 
30,  in  the  opera  oi  Romeo  e  GiuUetta^  and  was  received  Avith 
the  homage  paid  only  to  the  highest  talent. 

Madame  Pasta  Avas  then  laying  the  foundation  of  one  of  the 
most  dazzling  reputations  over  gained  by  prima  donna.  By 
sheer  industry  she  had  extended  the  range  of  her  voice  to  two 
octaves  and  a  half;  from  A  above  the  bass  clef  note  to  C  flat, 
and  even  to  D  in  alt.  Her  tones  bad  become  rich  and  sweet, 
except  when  she  attempted  to  force  them  beyond  their  limits; 
her  intonation  was,  however,  never  quite  perfect,  being  occa- 
sionally a  little  flat.  Her  singing  Avas  pure,  and  totally  di- 
vested of  all  spurious  finery ;  she  added  little  to  Avhat  was  set 
down  by  the  composer,  and  that  little  was  not  only  in  good 
taste,  but  had  a  great  deal  of  originality  to  recommend  it. 
She  possessed  deep  feeling  and  correct  judgment.  Her  shake 
was  most  beautiful :  Signor  Pacini's  Avell-known  cavatiua,  II 
soave  e  hel  contento — the  peculiar  feature  of  which  consisted 
in  the  solidity  and  power  of  a  sudden  shake,  contrasted  with 
the  detached  staccato  of  the  first  bar — Avas  written  for  Ma- 
dame Pasta.  Her  voice,  though  it  had  improved  wonderfully, 
never  ajDpeared  easy  and  clear  in  the  emission  of  certain  notes, 
and  retained  a  veiled  quality,  from  Avhich  it  was  only  freed 
after  the  first  scenes.  Some  of  her  notes  were  sharp  almost  to 
harshness,  but  this  defect  with  the  greatness  of  genius  she 
overcame,  and  even  converted  into  a  beauty ;  for  in  passages 
of  profound  passion  her  guttural  tones  were  thrilling.  The 
irregularity  of  her  lower  notes,  governed  thus  by  a  perfect 
taste  and  musical  tact,  aided  to  a  great  extent  in  giving  that 
depth  of  expression  Avliich  was  one  of  the  principal  charms  of 
her  singing;  indeed,  these  lower  tones  Avere  peculiarly  suited 
for  the  ntterance  of  vehement  passion,  producing  an  extraordi- 
nary effect  by  tlie  splendid  and  unexpected  contrast  Avhich 
they  enabled  her  to  give  to  the  SAveetness  of  the  upper  tones, 


GIUDITTA   PASTA.  251 

causing  a  kind  of  musical  discordance,  wliicb,  animated  by  ber 
pathetic  expression,  created  in  the  heart  of  the  listener  an  in- 
definable feeling  of  melancholy.  Her  accents  were  so  plain- 
tive, so  penetrating,  and  so  profoundly  tragical,  that  it  was  im- 
possible to  resist  their  influence. 

She  had  a  transcendent  gift  for  acting ;  indeed,  her  genius 
as  a  tragedian  surpassed  her  talents  as  a  singer.  Her  imagin- 
ative power  and  fine  sensibility  enabled  her  to  throw  herself 
completely  into  the  characters  she  assumed.  When  on  the 
stage  she  ceased  to  be  Pasta;  she  was  Tancredi,  Romeo,  Des- 
demona,  Medea,  or  Semiramide.  "  Xothing  could  have  been 
more  free  from  trick  or  affectation  than  Pasta's  performance," 
observed  Ebers.  "  There  is  no  perceptible  effort  to  resemble 
a  character  she  plays ;  on  the  contrary,  she  enters  the  stage 
the  character  itself;  transposed  into  the  situation,  excited  by 
the  hopes  and  the  fears,  bi'eatliiug  the  life  and  the  spirit  of  the 
being  she  represents."  Promjited  by  the  insj^iration  of  her 
genius,  every  gesture,  eveiy  movement,  became  a  study  for  a 
painter  or  a  sculptor ;  and  the  passions  of  the  soul,  animating 
her  noble  countenance,  vivified  the  ideal  personation.  Some 
of  her  attitudes  were  matchless  for  grace  and  originality,  their 
effect  being  heightened  by  "  a  resemblance  in  the  grand  con- 
tours of  her  figure  to  the  antique,  and  more  particularly  to  the 
Niobe."  Her  personal  qualifications,  combined  with  her  in- 
nate genius  and  high  cultivation,  made  her  soon  the  first  living 
actress  in  Italian  tragic  opei'a.  Talma  himself,  hearing  her 
declaim,  said,  "  Here  is  a  woman  of  whom  I  can  still  learn." 
On  the  stage  she  habitually  assumed  the  majesty  of  power  in 
repose,  and  while  ardent  in  passionate  scenes,  with  the  intui- 
tion of  genius  she  restrained  her  energy  within  due  limits. 
"  One  turn  of  her  beautiful  head,  one  glance  of  her  eye,  one 
light  motion  of  her  hand,  are  Avith  her  suflicient  to  express  a 
passion.  She  could  raise  the  soul  of  the  spectator  to  the  high- 
est pitch  of  astonishment  and  delight  by  one  tone  of  her  voice. 
'  O  Dio !'  as  it  came  from  her  breast,  swelling  over  her  lips, 
was  of  indescribable  eftcct." 

Outwardly  calm  and  sustained,  though  poetical  and  enthu- 
siastic in  tempei-ament,  the  crowning  excellence  of  her  art  was 
its  grand  simplicity.  Sublime  and  terrible  as  she  was  in  the 
expression  of  A'eheraent  passion,  there  was  yet  a  measured 
force  in  tlie  display  of  her  power,  which  was  always  under  the 


252  QUEENS    OF    SONG. 

control  of  her  taste  and  judgment.  She  never  wasted  energy ; 
nor  in  the  expression  of  the  deepest  pathos,  or  the  most  exalt- 
ed passion,  did  she  ever  exceed  the  bounds  of  art.  She  was 
always  vigorous,  but  never  violent ;  always  supremely  grace- 
ful, but  never  artificial  or  affected ;  and  she  was  always  great- 
est when  she  had  the  greatest  difficulties  to  encounter. 

Madame  Pasta's  personation  of  Romeo,  a  part  originally 
written  for  Grassini  by  Zingarelli,  was  beautiful  and  pathetic 
in  the  extreme.  The  passionate  grief  of  the  young  Montec- 
clii,  in  the  third  act,  was  subdued  by  a  tearful  pathos.  The 
recitative,  "  O  mia  Giulietta !  O  sposa !"  Avlien  Romeo  drinks 
the  poison,  was  an  effusion  of  despairing  melancholy ;  and  in 
the  air  which  follows  it, "  Ombra  adorata"  (written  by  Cres- 
centini,  the  singer),  in  which  the  unfortunate  lover  dwells  on 
the  idea  of  his  spirit  joining  that  of  his  beloved  in  Elysium, 
she  seemed  to  be  sustained  by  hope,  resignation,  and  sublime 
faith.  In  a  word,  it  v/ould  be  difficult  to  conceive  any  thing 
more  profoundly  affecting  than  Madame  Pasta's  Romeo. 

Her  next  important  character  at  the  Theatre  Italien  was 
Tancredi,  which  she  made  her  own ;  and  it  Avas  one  of  her 
most  finished,  enchanting,  and  deeply  interesting  impersona- 
tions. She  looked  resplendent  in  the  casque  and  cuirass  of 
the  Red  Cross  Knight.  No  one  could  ever  sing  the  part  of 
Tancredi  like  Madame  Pasta :  her  pure  taste  enabled  her  to 
add  grace  to  the  original  composition  by  elegant  and  irre- 
proachable ornaments.  "  Di  tanli  palpiti"  had  been  first  pre- 
sented to  the  Parisians  by  Madame  Fodor,  who  covered  it 
with  rich  and  brilliant  embroidery,  and  gave  it  what  an  En- 
glish critic.  Lord  Mount  Edgecumbe,  afterward  termed  its 
country-dance-like  character.  Madame  Pasta,  on  the  contrary, 
infused  into  this  air  its  true  color  and  expression,  and  the  ef- 
fect was  ravishing. 

But  her  great  triumph  was  in  Otello.  In  Desdemona  she 
produced  an  indescribable  effect  upon  the  audience.  Of  the 
impassioned  energy,  the  spirit,  the  delicacy  and  tenderness 
which  Madame  Pasta  infused  into  the  character,  pages  might 
be  written.  In  the  celebrated  scene  which  closes  the  second 
act,  commencing  thus — ■ 

"  Se  il  padre  m'abbandoni 
Da  chi  sperar'  picta," 

fear,  anguish,  and  despair  were  successively  expressed  in  her 


GITJDITTA   PASTA.  253 

countenance,  and  her  pathetic  singing  of  the  lovely  melody 
"  Assisa  a  pise  d'un  salice"  touched  every  heart.  In  this  part, 
those  melting  tones,  which  are  designated  "  the  tears  of  the 
voice,"  were  heard  with  touching  eflect.  And  it  was  in  the 
last  scene,  however,  when,  awakened  by  the  raging  Otello, 
Desdemona  starts  up,  and  the  indignation  and  horror  of  con- 
scious innocence  are  kindled  within  her,  that  the  powers  of 
Madame  Pasta's  performance  were  concentrated.  Her  transi- 
tions from  hope  to  terror,  from  supplication  to  scorn,  culmi- 
nating in  her  vehement  exclamation  "  Sono  innocente !"  elec- 
trified the  audience :  no  language  could  convey  an  idea  of  the 
beauty,  the  intensity,  the  sublimity  of  her  acting.  Indeed, 
throughout  the  final  scene,  her  acting  was  the  perfection  of 
tragic  beauty :  her  last  frenzied  looks,  Avhcn,  blinded  by  her 
disheveled  hair  and  bewildered  with  conflicting  emotions,  she 
seems  to  seek  fruitlessly  the  means  of  flight,  were  awful.  In 
no  other  character  were  the  varied  resources  of  the  art  of  the 
great  tragedian  drawn  forth  so  consummately  as  in  Desdemo- 
na,  and  it  displayed  the  versatility  of  her  powers  to  advantage 
when  succeeding  that  of  Tancredi.  The  contrast  presented 
by  her  chivalric  bearing  as  the  young  hero  of  Syracuse,  to  the 
gentleness  and  graceful  simplicity  of  the  artless  Venetian  lady, 
was  very  striking,  and  enhanced  the  appreciation  of  her  genius. 
On  the  lyric  stage  she  thus  exercised  a  double  sway ;  for  such 
was  her  force  of  genius  that  she  was  able  to  excel  in  the  new 
school  of  Rossini,  and  in  the  grand  style  of  the  ancient  school. 
She  shone  in  the  operas  of  the  Swan  of  Pesaro,  and  she  could 
equally  give  eflect  to  the  sublime  airs  composed  by  Zingarelli 
for  Marchesi,  Crescentini,  Grassini,  and  other  models  of  what 
was  then  called  "the  fine  school  of  singing." 

Elisabetta  was  revived  for  Pasta,  who,  as  the  English  Queen, 
was  no  less  admirable  than  in  the  characters  of  Desdemona, 
Romeo,  or  Tancredi.  The  opera  offered  then  a  two-fold  inter- 
est, for  Mdlle.  Cinti,  after  a  long  absence,  reappeared  in  the 
part  of  Mathilde.  In  October  3fosb  hi  Egitto  was  produced, 
Pasta  filliii2j  the  leading  characters  with  eclat. 

In  January  of  the  following  year  Madame  Pasta  for  the  first 
time  appeared  before  the  public  in  her  great  masterpiece — 
the  character  of  Medea,  in  Mayer's  opera.  Even  her  Avarmest 
admirers  were  taken  by  surprise  by  the  grandeur  of  her  im- 
personation.    Nothing  could  surpass  her  performance  of  this 


254  QUEENS    OF   SONG. 

character;  it  was  a  triumph  of  histrionic  art,  and  afforded 
every  o2323ortuuity  for  the  display  of  all  the  resources  of  her 
genius — the  varied  powers  which  had  been  called  forth  and 
combined  in  Medea,  the  passionate  tenderness  of  Romeo,  the 
spirit  and  animation  of  Taucredi,  the  majesty  of  Semiramide, 
the  mournful  beauty  of  Nina,  the  dignity  and  sweetness  of 
Desdemona.  It  is  difficult  to  conceive  a  character  more  high- 
ly dramatic  or  more  intensely  impassioned  than  that  of  Medea; 
and  in  the  successive  scenes.  Pasta  appeared  as  if  torn  by  the 
conflict  of  contending  passions,  until  at  last  her  anguish  rose 
to  sublimity.  The  conflict  of  human  affection  and  supernatu- 
ral power,  the  tenderness  of  the  wife,  the  agonies  of  the  moth- 
er, and  the  rage  of  the  woman  scorned,  were  portrayed  with 
a  truth,  a  power,  a  grandeur  of  effect  unequaled  before  or  since 
by  any  actress  or  singer.  Every  attitude,  each  movement  and 
look,  became  a  study  for  a  painter ;  for  in  the  storm  of  furi- 
ous passion  the  grace  and  beauty  of  her  gestures  were  never 
marred  by  extravagance.  Indeed,  her  impersonation  of  Me- 
dea was  one  of  the  finest  illustrations  of  classic  grandeur  the 
stage  has  ever  presented. 

In  the  scene  where  Medea  murders  her  children,  the  acting 
of  Pasta  rose  to  the  sublime.  Her  self-abandonment,  her  hor- 
ror at  the  contemplation  of  the  deed  she  is  about  to  perpe- 
trate, the  irrepressible  affection  which  comes  welling  up  in  her 
breast,  were  pictured  with  a  magnificent  power,  yet  with  such 
natural  pathos,  that  the  agony  of  the  distracted  mother  was 
never  lost  sight  of  in  the  fury  of  the  priestess.  Folding  her 
arms  across  her  bosom,  she  contracted  her  form,  as,  cowering, 
she  shrunk  from  the  ajjproach  of  her  children;  then  grief,  love, 
desjjair,  rage,  madness,  alternately  wrung  her  heart,  until  at 
last  her  soul  seemed  appalled  at  the  crime  she  contemplated. 
Starting  forward,  she  pursued  the  innocent  creatures,  while 
the  audience  involuntarily  closed  their  eyes  and  recoiled  be- 
fore the  harrowing  spectacle,  which  almost  elicited  a  stifled 
cry  of  hori'or.  But  her  fine  genius  invested  the  character  with 
that  classic  dignity  and  beauty  which,  as  in  the  Niobe  group, 
veils  the  excess  of  human  agony  in  the  drapery  of  ideal  art. 

The  season  of  1824  at  the  Kinsc's  Theatre  was  remarkable 
for  an  unusually — an  unnecessarily  large  company  of  singers. 
No  less  than  six  prima  donnas  appeared :  Mesdames  Colbran 
Rossini,  Catalani,  Ronzi  di  Begnis,  Vestris,  Caradori,  and  Pas- 


GIUDITTA  PASTA.  255 

ta.  In  tbc  month  of  March  Madame  Pasta  was  anuonncetl, 
and  made  her  first  appearance  April  24,  The  opera  selected 
for  her  appearance  was  Otello.  It  might  almost  be  termed  a 
debut,  public  curiosity  was  so  strongly  excited,  for  Europe 
was  now  ringing  with  her  fame.  Every  portion  of  the  house 
wa£  filled  at  a  very  early  hour,  the  boxes  and  pit  being  so 
crowded  that  many  elegantly  dressed  ladies  were  obliged  to 
be  content  with  seats  in  the  gallery.  To  Madame  Pasta  was 
due  the  idea  of  reviving  Otello.  The  music  was  worthy  of  a 
better  fate  than  being  allied  to  such  wretched  trash  as  the  li- 
bretto in  which  Shakspeare's  beautiful  tragedy  had  been  trav- 
estied by  a  certain  Marchese  Berio,  and  tortured  to  suit  Avhat 
he  considered  the  exigencies  of  the  lyric  stage.  The  utmost 
skill  botli  of  composer  and  performer  was  requisite  to  make 
the  libretto  even  tolerable  to  an  English  audience. 

Madame  Pasta's  chaste  and  expressive  style  of  singing  ex- 
cited the  utmost  admiration ;  it  was  never  disfigured  by  mer- 
etricious ornament.  "Moderate  in  the  use  of  embellishments," 
says  Stendhal,  "  Madame  Pasta  never  employs  them  but  to 
heighten  the  force  of  the  expression ;  and,  what  is  more,  her 
embellishments  last  only  just  so  long  as  they  are  found  to  be 
useful."  In  this  respect,  her  manner  formed  a  very  strong 
contrast  with  that  of  the  generality  of  Italian  singers  at  the 
time,  who  were  more  desirous  of  creating  astonishment  than 
of  giving  pleasure.  It  was  not  from  any  lack  of  technical 
knowledge  and  vocal  skill  that  Madame  Pasta  avoided  extrav- 
agant ornamentation,  for  in  many  of  the  concerted  pieces — in 
which  she  chiefly  shone — her  execution  united  clearness  and 
rapidity.  "  Madame  Pasta  is  certainly  less  exuberant  in  point 
of  ornament,  and  more  expressive  in  point  of  majesty  and  sim- 
plicity," observed  one  critic,  "than  any  of  the  first-class  sing- 
ers who  have  visited  England  for  a  long  period."  "  She  is 
also  a  mistress  of  art,"  continues  the  same  writer,  "and,  being 
limited  by  nature,  she  makes  no  extravagant  use  of  her  pow- 
ers, but  employs  them  with  the  tact  and  judgment  that  can 
proceed  only  from  an  extraordinary  mind.  This  constitutes 
her  highest  praise ;  for  never  did  intellect  and  industry  become 
such  perfect  substitutes  for  organic  superiority.  Notwith- 
standing her  fine  vein  of  imagination  and  the  beauty  of  her 
execution,  she  cultivates  high  and  deep  passions,  and  is  never 
so  great  as  in  the  adaptation  of  art  to  the  purest  purposes  of 
expression. 


256  QUEENS    OP   SONG. 

Madame  Pasta  appeared  as  Tancredi  May  18.  Of  this  per- 
formance it  was  said  by  one  enthusiastic  writer,  "  She  lends 
her  soul  to  the  character,  and  seems  to  feel  deeply  the  senti- 
ments which  she  utters  with  the  heart-touching  eloquence  of 
harmony."  "  Di  tauti  palpiti,"  and  some  passages  in  the  duet 
of  the  second  act  with  Amenaide,  were  remarked  as  the  best 
examples  of  her  peculiar  manner ;  for,  though  "  Di  tanti  pal- 
piti" had  been  set  to  a  quadrille,  and  had  been  whistled  through 
every  street  of  the  town,  yet  it  excited  a  temjoest  of  aj^plause 
when  poured  from  the  lips  of  Madame  Pasta.  Madame  Konzi 
di  Begnis,  a  young  and  lovely  woman,  a  lively  actress  and  a 
finished  singer,  imparted  to  the  character  of  Amenaide  that 
passionate  feeling  and  powerful  expression  in  which  she  was 
sui^erior  to  almost  allthe  vocalists  of  the  day.  Her  voice  was 
not  powerful,  but  she  had  the  advantage  of  knowing  its  exact 
capability,  and  iu  her  management  of  it  evinced  much  taste 
and  science. 

The  next  character  in  which  the  great  tragedian  appeared 
was  that  of  Romeo,  Zingarelli's  opera  being  produced  first  for 
her  benefit,  June  21.  Giulietta  Avas  afterward  represented  by 
Ronzi  di  Begnis,  but  for  a  few  nights  her  place  was  supplied 
by  Madame  Biagioli,  who  undertook  the  character  at  three 
days'  notice,  on  account  of  the  illness  of  the  fair  young  prima 
donna.  The  libretto  of  this  opera  is  a  j)Oor  one,  but  the  music 
contains  several  beautiful  pieces. 

Semiramide  was  the  last  opera  brought  out  for  Pasta  in 
1824.  She  was  superb  and  majestic  as  the  Assyrian  queen, 
and  realized  by  her  regal  dignity  and  air  of  command  the 
highest  conception  of  the  cliaracter  of  Semiramide.  Tlie  scene 
in  the  first  act,  where  the  spectre  of  her  murdered  consort  ap- 
pears, she  made  fearfully  grand  and  impressive ;  and  those 
where  she  learns  that  Arsace  is  her  son,  and  where  she  falls  by 
his  hand  before  the  tomb  of  Ninus,  were  of  almost  indescrib- 
able effect. 

Madame  Pasta  was  now  at  the  summit  of  her  art,  and  "a 
reigning  favorite  on  the  stage,  which  she  had  once  left  Avith- 
out  exciting  regret."  She  was  universally  allowed  to  be  the 
greatest  performer  in  lyric  -tragedy  who  had  appeared  for 
years.  And  this  recognition  was  due  to  her  fine  genius;  she 
owed  nothing  to  artifice  or  meretricious  attraction.  The  ex- 
ercise of  her  histrionic  and  musical  gifts  was  controlled  by  a 


GIUDITTA   PASTA.  257 

refined  taste ;  and  the  imperfections  of  her  voice  were  reme- 
died by  incessant  cultivation,  and  veiled  by  a  style  noble,  deli- 
cate, and  jDure.  Nothing  Avas  left  to  chance.  Her  brilliant 
talents,  united  to  amiable  manners,  made  her  the  idol  of  the 
f^ishionable  world ;  large  sums  were  showered  on  her  for  ap- 
l^earing  at  private  concerts,  and  she  made  a  handsome  profit 
by  ner  subscription  concerts  at  Almack's  Rooms.  Her  salary 
at  the  theatre  was  £14,000.  Madame  Colbran  Rossini  re- 
ceived £15,000. 

Despite  the  galaxy  of  talent  at  the  King's  Theatre,  the 
Opera  season  of  1824  was  a  disastrous  failure,  j^artly  owing  to 
the  enormous  expense  of  an  unnecessarily  numerous  company. 
Soon  after  the  termination  of  the  season,  the  contents  of  the 
King's  Theatre  were  advertised  for  sale,  and  it  seemed  prob- 
able that  it  had  closed  to  open  no  more.  "  Interminable  dis- 
putes and  litigations,  mismanagements,  and  rejieated  losses," 
says  Ebers,  "  seemed  to  tlireaten  ruin  to  whoever  should  be 
bold  enough  to  undertake  it;  but  by  some  arrangement  the 
sale  never  took  place,  and  the  same  manager  ventured  to  run 
the  hazard  of  renewinsr  his  lease." 

The  management  of  the  King's  Theatre  in  1825  made  great 
exertions  to  secure  Madame  Pasta,  who,  then  in  the  height 
of  her  popularity,  was  performing  in  Paris.  She  obtained  a 
conge  to  the  8th  of  June  only,  being  bound  under  heavy 
penalties  to  return  to  Paris  by  the  stipulated  time.  Great 
difficulties  presented  themselves  in  the  way  of  completing  the 
engagement,  and  these  at  first  appeared  insurmountable.  One 
was,  that  Benelli,  the  manager  and  sub-lessee,  quitted  England, 
leaving  unpaid  the  greater  part  of  her  large  salary  for  the  past 
season ;  Madame  Pasta,  therefore,  Avas  naturally  unwiHing  to 
enter  into  a  fresh  engagement  with  the  management.  "  She 
required,  then,  in  addition  to  the  remuneration  which  might 
be  agreed  on  for  the  employment  of  her  services  during  the 
period  of  her  conge,"  says  Ebers,  "  that  she  should  be  paid 
the  whole  portion  of  her  last  year's  salary  left  owing  by  the 
late  manager."  Mr.  Allen  was  sent  to  Paris  to  try  what  could 
be  done  to  induce  her  to  come  short  of  such  a  demand,  and  at 
last  all  was  arranged,  and  on  the  10th  of  May  Madame  Pasta 
made  her  ai)pearance  at  the  King's  Theatre  in  Otello^  the 
opera,  in  all  its  principal  parts,  being  cast  as  in  the  preceding 
season.  It  was  generally  decided  that  her  singing  during  this 
season  was  improved,  by  being  more  finislicd. 
17 


258  QUEENS    OF   SONG. 

Madame  Pasta's  arrival  made  a  wonderful  alteration  in  the 
prospects  of  the  King's  Theatre.  Ronzi  di  Begnis,  having 
totally  lost  her  voice,  had  been  compelled  to  throw  up  her  en- 
gagement, and  retired  to  Italy ;  Madame  Vestris  had  seceded 
from  the  Opera ;  and  Madame  Caradori  was  unable  to  perform 
for  some  time.  The  manager,  in  despair,  thought  of  engaging 
the  young  daughter  of  the  tenor  Garcia,  who,  he  hoped, 
might  help  to  prop  the  fortunes  of  the  house ;  and  she  ap- 
peared, but,  through  extreme  nervousness,  proved  a  compara- 
tive failure. 

The  first  novelty,  and  which  was  produced  for  Pasta's  ben- 
efit. May  26th,  was  a  revival  of  Paisiello's  Nina,  Pazza  per 
Amore,  wofully  abridged,  or  rather  mangled  and  curtailed  into 
one  act,  and  even  then  thought  too  long  and  tiresome ;  "  so 
entirely  has  taste  changed,  and  music,"  sighed  Lord  Mount 
Edgecmnbe.  Some  declared  that  Nina,  in  which  Madame 
Pasta  had  previously  aj^peared  in  Paris  in  1823,  was  her  finest 
performance  as  an  actress,  though  not  as  a  singer.  The  story 
is  simple  and  affecting,  being  that  of  an  unhappy  young  girl 
driven  to  madness  by  an  unrequited  passion,  and  then  restored 
to  reason  by  hearing  an  air  which  she  had  been  accustomed 
to  sing  with  her  lover.  Madame  Pasta  depicted  the  wander- 
ing of  intellect  finely  and  delicately,  and  with  touching  efiect ; 
and  the  gradual  return  of  intelligence,  brightening  the  spirit 
with  joy  and  thankfulness,  was  exquisitely  beautiful.  Her 
singing  was  characterized  by  simplicity  and  pathos,  and  the 
whole  performance  drew  tears  from  her  fashionable  audience. 

At  this  time  some  j^ersons  of  fashion,  seeking  for  a  new  sen- 
sation, arranged  to  have  operas  performed  at  their  houses  on 
Sunday  night:  more  than  one  performance  had  been  given, 
when  they  were  suddenly  checked.  The  Duke  of  York  had 
been  invited  to  one  of  them,  and  the  performance  was  delayed 
for  some  time,  as  his  royal  highness  did  not  make  his  aj)pear- 
ance :  at  length  a  note  arrived,  couched  in  polite  terms,  but 
plainly  intimating  that  the  Sunday  ojDcras  did  not  receive  the 
countenance  of  the  court.  Had  these  operas  been  continued, 
it  is  certain  that,  in  addition  to  the  shock  that  would  have 
been  given  to  religious  ideas,  they  would  have  tended  to  ruin 
the  Italian  theatre ;  as  it  was,  their  efliect  was  detrimental,  as 
some  of  the  singers  actually  left  the  rehearsals  at  the  King's 
Theatre   unfinished  to   attend  those   at   aristocratic   houses. 


GIUDITTA   PASTA.  259 

Many  of  the  siugers  being  engaged  to  perform  nightly  at 
three  or  four  public  and  jirivate  concerts,  the  Opera  was  often 
paralyzed  by  the  indisposition  of  the  vocalists  in  consequence. 

Madame  Pasta  performed,  during  the  season  of  1825,  on  ten 
nights  and  in  four  characters,  and  she  actually  sang  at  twenty- 
four  or  twenty-five  concerts,  receiving  twenty-five  guineas  for 
each.  Her  operatic  engagement  was  £1200,  she  sold  her  ben- 
efit to  Ebers  for  £800,  and  within  the  brief  space  of  four  weeks 
she  realized  no  less  a  sum  than  £2400.  In  1826  she  demand- 
ed £2300  for  three  months  and  a  half,  which  was  acceded  to ; 
and  the  security  she  demanded  was  managed  by  making  the 
money  payable  in  three  installments,  the  last  to  be  paid  previ- 
ous to  her  appearance  on  the  stage.  In  addition  to  her  salary, 
she  was  allowed,  during  the  term  of  her  engagement,  a  jjrivate 
box,  twelve  pit  and  twelve  gallery  tickets. 

She  made  her  appearance  on  the  23d  of  April,  and  her  pop- 
ularity absorbed  universal  attention.  "  At  no  period  of  Pas- 
ta's  career  had  she  been  more  fashionable,"  says  Ebers, "  than 
during  this  engagement.  She  had  literally  worked  her  way 
up  to  eminence,  and,  having  attained  the  height,  she  stood  on 
it  firm  and  secure ;  no  performer  has  owed  less  to  caprice  or 
fashion :  her  reputation  has  been  earned,  and,  what  is  more, 
deserved." 

Pasta  had  sung  alternately  in  Paris  and  in  London  till  182G  ; 
but,  owing  to  some  disagreement  with  Rossini,  then  charged 
with  the  direction  of  the  Opera  Italien,  she  would  not  renew 
her  engagement  with  him.  On  quitting  England  in  that  year 
she  went  to  Naples.  In  1827  she  reappeared  in  London,  be- 
ing engaged  at  a  salary  of  between  two  and  three  thousand 
guineas  for  twenty-three  nights,  besides  a  free  benefit,  which 
produced  her  1500  guineas.  She  repeated  her  usual  charac- 
ters, and  her  performance  of  Dcsdemona  aflbrded  an  opportu- 
nity of  comparison  with  Madame  Malibran,  with  whom  it  was 
also  a  favorite  character,  and  who  performed  it  the  same  sea- 
son. It  was  admitted  that  JMalibran  had  the  advantage  in 
vocalization  and  execution,  and  pure  musical  feeling,  but  in 
high  and  original  conception  Pasta  was  incontestably  supe- 
rior ;  her  reading  of  the  part  was  totally  dificrent  from  that 
of  her  young  rival,  being  characterized  by  greater  nobleness 
and  grandeur. 

The  novelty  of  the  season  was  a  serious  opera,  entitled  Ma- 


260  QUEENS    OF   SONG. 

Ha  Stiia7'da,  the  music  by  Signor  Coccia.  The  character  of 
the  unhai^i^y  Mary  was  sustained  by  Madame  Pasta  with  an 
"  impassioned  dignity,  with  an  eloquence  of  voice,  of  look,  and 
of  action  which  defies  description,  and  challenges  the  severest 
criticism.  It  was  a  piece  of  acting  which  great  natural  genius, 
extensive  powers  of  observation,  peculiar  sensibility  of  feeling, 
and  those  acquirements  of  art  which  are  the  result  of  sedulous 
study,  combined  to  render  perfect."  The  interview  with 
Queen  EUzabeth  was  deeply  affecting.  Mary  first  sujjplicates, 
but,  roused  by  the  taunts  of  her  persecutor,  reassumes  for  a 
moment  the  dignity  of  her  character  and  station,  and  then 
sinks  again  imder  her  sorrow.  The  abject  humiliation  of  the 
Scottish  queen  was  touching  in  the  extreme,  and  her  burst  of 
passion  was  a  magnificent  contrast  to  the  misery  previously 
expressed.  The  last  scene,  when  Mary  takes  an  eternal  fare- 
well of  her  weeping  attendants,  was  unequaled  for  pathos,  and 
crowned  the  triumph  of  the  performance.  Madame  Pasta  felt 
the  situation  so  intensely,  that  when  summoned  before  the  au- 
dience she  was  always  still  laboring  imder  great  agitation. 

In  August  Madame  Pasta  went  to  Dublin,  accompanied  by 
Spagnoletti,  Seguin,  and  Madame  Castelli,  and  then  left  for 
Italy,  appearing  first  at  Trieste.  While  there,  when  walking 
with  some  friends,  a  ragged  child,  about  three  years  of  age, 
approached,  and  asked  charity  for  her  blind  mother,  in  such 
artless  and  touching  accents,  that  the  prima  donna  burst  into 
tears,  and  put  into  the  child's  hands  all  the  money  she  had. 
Her  friends  began  extolling  her  charity  and  the  goodness  of 
her  heart.  "  I  will  not  accept  your  compliments,"  said  she, 
wiping  the  tears  from  her  eyes.  "  This  child  demanded  char- 
ity in  a  sublime  manner.  I  have  seen,  at  one  glance,  all  the 
miseries  of  the  motliei-,  the  wretchedness  of  their  home,  the 
want  of  clothing,  the  cold  which  they  sufier.  I  should  indeed 
be  a  great  actress  if  at  any  time  I  could  find  a  gesture  express- 
ing profound  misery  with  such  truth." 

At  Naples  Madame  Pasta  found  less  favor  than  at  Trieste. 
Medea  did  not  create  the  furore  it  had  inspired  in  the  colder 
inhabitants  of  the  capitals  of  France  and  England,  and  Mayer's 
opera  was  supplanted  by  Pacini's  JViobe,  which  succeeded  bet- 
ter. The  Neapolitans,  caring  more  for  the  pure  art  of  vocali- 
zation than  for  the  dramatic  quality  of  a  singer,  appeared  una- 
ble to  appreciate  at  its  full  value  the  genius  of  Pasta,  who,  dis- 


GIUDITTA   PASTA.  261 

couraged  by  their  coldness,  soon  left  Naples.  She  received 
more  justice  at  Bologna,  Milan,  Vicuna,  and  Verona. 

In  1828  she  appeared  again  before  her  English  admirers  in 
TancrecU,  and  afterward  performed  in  Zelmira,  in  which  she 
sang  with  the  most  exquisite  feeling.  Her  Zelmira  was  by 
many  preferred  to  her  Tancredi,  as  affording  greater  oppor- 
tunity for  the  exertion  of  her  dramatic  as  well  as  vocal  powers; 
for  she  was  always  more  at  ease,  more  confident,  in  proportion 
to  the  magnitude  of  her  task.  After  Otello,  Mayer's  grand 
serious  opera  of  ia  Hosa  Bianca  e  la  JRosa  Hossa  was  pro- 
duced, with  new  scenery,  dresses,  and  decorations.  The  li- 
bretto was  absurd,  and  utterly  destitute  of  historical  accuracy, 
while  the  music  was  not  what  might  have  been  expected  from 
the  composer  of  Medea — being  pleasing,  but  nothing  more. 
Madame  Pasta  distinguished  herself  pre-eminently  by  her  dra- 
matic and  vocal  excellence,  and,  as  the  Earl  of  Derby,  a  young 
knight  of  the  Red  Rose,  in  a  plumed  helmet,  looked  the  gal- 
lant cavalier  to  admiration. 

The  part  of  Armando,  in  II  Crociato  in  Efjitto^  was  her 
next  remarkable  personation.  The  opera  had  been  composed 
almost  expressly  for  Signer  Vclluti,  but  Past'a's  success  in  the 
character  in  Paris  had  raised  the  curiosity  of  the  English  jDub- 
lic,  and  a  violent  contest  ensued  between  the  partisans  of  the 
signer  and  the  great  prima  donna,  which  rose  to  such  a  height 
that  there  were  sometimes  outbreaks  during  the  performances. 
Madame  Pasta's  version  of  the  part  was  different  in  many  re- 
spects from  that  of  Velluti:  she  paid  the  most  scrupulous  at- 
tention to  the  tempo,  which  Vclluti  altogether  disregarded  in 
order  to  introduce  his  favorite  roulades.  Her  conception  of 
the  part  was  completely  original,  so  that  many  thought  they 
now  witnessed  it  really  for  the  first  time.  A  ludicrous  inci- 
dent occurred  at  the  first  representation,  March  13th.  Oji  the 
conclusion  of  the  trio,  "  Ma  balzai''  quel  cor'  senti,"  which  she 
sang  with  Madame  Caradori  and  Mdlle.  Brambilla,  Madame 
Pasta  flew  to  her  dressing-room  to  change  her  costume,  but 
the  audience  not  allowing  the  performance  to  proceed  till  the 
trio  was  repeated,  the  prima  donna  hurried  on  to  the  stage 
again,  half  Crusader,  half  Mameluke. 

On  her  benefit  night,  May  15th,  Madame  Pasta  attempted 
a  daring  experiment.  Selecting  Otello  as  the  piece  of  the 
evening,  she   actually  appeared  as  the  jealous  Moor,  Mdlle. 


262  QUEENS   OP   SONG. 

# 

Sontag  being  the  Desclemona;  but  the  innovation  was  not 
liked :  indeed,  the  transposition  of  the  music  of  Otello  from  a 
tenor  to  a  mezzo-soprano  voice  naturally  injured  the  effect  of 
the  concerted  pieces ;  nor  did  the  songs  gain  by  the  change. 
But  her  acting  was  passionately  grand.  She  did  not  blacken 
her  face,  but  assumed  a  brown  complexion,  in  order  that  the 
expressive  play  of  her  countenance,  which  always  was  one  of 
her  most  powerful  aids  in  acting,  might  not  be  lost.  The  last 
scene,  where  Otello  seizes  Desdemona,  who  endeavors  to  es- 
cape, grasping  her  by  the  hair  and  dragging  her  to  the  bed, 
where  he  stabs  her,  was  horrifying.  "Some  of  the  spectators, 
iand  those  not  a  few,  considered  her  whole  deportment  to  have 
exceeded  the  effects  which  can  be  readily  borne,  and  to  touch 
the  very  verge  of  disgust."  It  was,  however,  a  magnificent 
display  of  tragic  power. 

Never  had  Pasta's  performance  been  so  powerful  as  during 
this  season.  The  presence  of  Malibran  and  of  Sontag,  two 
young  and  glorious  rivals,  excited  her  to  sujDcrhuman  efforts 
to  retain  her  supremacy ;  and  her  energy,  always  marvelous, 
was  now  exerted  to  the  utmost.  But,  while  increased  effect 
was  visible  in  her  acting,  her  singing  was  deteriorated :  she 
never  acted  so  well  or  sang  so  ill.  Her  intonation  was  mate- 
rially affected  by  the  exertions  she  made,  and  in  her  anxiety 
not  to  be  outstripped,  she  lowered  her  standard  of  .taste,  and 
loaded  her  singing  with  the  same  redundancy  of  ornament  in 
which  her  younger  rivals  indulged.  She  was  considered  by 
some  to  have  fallen  into  the  same  class  with  Catalani;  but  her 
style  had  less  force  than  that  of  Catalani  only  because  it  had 
less  violence,  while  it  was  much  more  finished.  She  united 
the  most  elegant  and  cultivated  vocal  taste  with  dramatic  tal- 
ent of  almost  unequaled  splendor.  "  Madame  Pasta,"  said  a 
clever  writer,  "is  in  fact  the  founder  of  a  new  school,  and  after 
her,  the  possession  of  vocal  talent  alone  is  insufiicient  to  secure 
high  favor,  or  to  excite  the  same  degree  of  interest  for  any 
length  of  time.  Even  in  Italy,  where  the  mixture  of  dramatic 
with  musical  science  was  long  neglected,  and  not  appreciated 
for  want  of  persons  equally  gifted  with  both  attainments,  Ma- 
dame Pasta  has  exhibited  to  her  countrymen  the  beauty  of  a 
school  too  long  neglected,  in  such  a  manner  that  they  M'ill  no 
longer  admit  the  notion  of  lyric  tragedy  being  properly  spoken 
without  dramatic  as  well  as  vocal  qualifications  in  its  repre- 
sentative." 


I 


GIUDITTA   PASTA.  263 

In  1829  Madame  Pasta  was  in  Vienna,  where  she  was 
named  by  the  Emperor  of  Austria  first  court  singer,  and  was 
presented  by  him  with  a  superb  diadem  of  the  value  of  400 
ducats  (about  £180).  She  purchased  a  charming  villa  this 
year  near  the  Lake  of  Como,  whither  she  retired  for  some 
months  in  the  summer,  for  repose  from  her  exertions.  During 
this  year  she  performed  in  twelve  operas  by  Rossini  at  Bolog- 
na, the  great  maestro  himself  directing  the  orchestra ;  and  a 
medal  was  struck  in  her  honor  by  the  Societa  del  Casino. 

In  1830  she  performed  at  Vienna,  in  Otello  and  other  grand 
operas,  and  thence  Avent  to  Milan,  where  she  was  singing  with 
Rubiui,  Galli,  Madame  Pisaroni,  Lablache,  and  David.  Doni- 
zetti was  then  in  that  city,  and  wrote  for  Pasta,  Eubini,  and 
Galli  his  Anna  Bolena,  which  w^as  very  successful,  the  subject 
being  chosen  with  the  view  of  developing  the  predominant 
qualities  of  the  three  lyric  performers. 

Rubini,  the  "King  of  Tenors,"  Avas  then  about  six-and-thir- 
ty.  Ilis  talents  were  powerfully  dramatic,  his  voice  was  a 
pure  and  high  tenor,  rising  from  mi  to  ut  from  the  chest,  and 
prolonged  to  la  in  the  falsetto.  With  a  great  volume  of  tone 
and  a  delicious  timhre^  he  had  wonderful  facility  of  execution ; 
his  style  being  distinguished  by  an  extraordinary  fluency  in 
ornament,  and  a  peculiar  tr^mulo  on  the  sustained  notes,  which 
gave  exquisite  effect  to  pathetic  expression.  He  had  been 
originally  a  choir-boy,  but,  though  his  father  thought  highly 
of  his  talents  and  voice,  some  good  people  pretended  that  he 
would  never  be  able  to  succeed  as  a  singer.  He  worked  hard, 
nevertheless,  and  after  surmounting  great  difficulties  and  vicis- 
situdes, went  to  Paris  in  1825,  where  his  success  was  triumph- 
ant. His  manner  was  full  of  energy,  and  his  execution  facile 
and  finished,  even  when  indulging  in  the  most  daring  and 
luxuriant  ornamentation.  These  qualities  he  still  possessed, 
when,  at  a  subsequent  period  on  the  boards  of  our  Italian  Op- 
era, he  was  one  of  the  marvelous  quartette  composed  of  Grisi, 
Rubini,  Tamburini,  and  Lablache. 

In  1831  Pasta  Avas  engaged  at  Milan  for  twenty  representa- 
tions, at  a  salary  of  40,000  francs ;  Milan  thus  possessing  at 
once  the  two  greatest  singers  of  the  time,  herself  and  Malibran. 
It  was  at  Milan  that>  Viucenzo  Bellini  wrote  for  her  his  lovely 
opera.  La  Sonnamhula^  which  was  thus  cast :  Amina,  Ma- 
dame Pasta ;   Elvino,  Rubini ;   Rodolfo,  Mariano ;   Lisa,  Ma- 


264  QUEENS    OF   SONG. 

dame  Taccani,  This  deliglitful  work  was  produced  at  the 
Teatro  della  Canobiana,  and  excited  the  most  lively  interest. 
Pasta  and  Rubini  surpassed  themselves.  "Emulating  each 
other  in  wishing  to  display  the  merits  of  the  opera,  they  were 
both  equally  successful,"  said  a  critic  of  the  day,  "  and  those 
who  participated  in  the  delight  of  hearing  them  will  never 
forget  the  magic  effect  of  their  execution.  But,  exquisite  as 
were,  undoubtedly,  Madame  Pasta's  vocal  exertions,  her  histri- 
onic powers,  if  possible,  surpassed  them.  It  would  be  difficult 
for  those  who  have  seen  her  represent,  in  Donizetti's  excellent 
opera,  the  unfortunate  Amina,  with  a  grandeur  and  a  dignity 
above  all  praise,  to  conceive  that  she  could  so  change  (if  the 
expression  may  be  allowed)  her  nature  as  to  enact  the  part  of 
a  simple  country-girl.  But  she  has  jDroved  her  powers  to  be 
unrivaled ;  she  personates  a  simple  rustic  as  easily  as  she  iden- 
tifies herself  with  Medea,  Semiraraide,  Tancredi,  and  Anna  Bo- 
lena." 

In  1831,  after  an  absence  of  three  years,  Madame  Pasta  re- 
turned to  England,  presenting  herself  in  the  character  of  Me- 
dea, with  Rubini,  Fanny  Ayton,  and  Lablache.  Her  perform- 
ance had  lost  none  of  its  wonted  vigor ;  on  the  contrary,  her 
tragic  acting  was  remarked  as  being,  if  possible,  improved. 
In  the  scone  with  her  children  she  rivaled  Mrs.  Siddons.  Ru- 
bini performed  the  character  of  Egeus,  and  the  duets  between 
the  great  tenor  and  Pasta  were  exquisite.  This  was  a  happy 
year  for  Rubini,  it  being  the  first  that  he  was  allowed  to  have 
his  enormous  earnings  in  full,  he  having  previously  received 
only  a  small  portion  from  Barbaja:  those  earnings  had  aver- 
aged £8000  per  annum  for  many  years.  Rubini  was  very 
economical,  and  when  he  died  in  1854,  left  behind  him  a  foi'- 
tune  of  £90,000. 

In  Gnecco's  Prova  cVirn  Opera  Seria,  Pasta  appeared  to 
unusual  advantage,  and  showed  much  versatility  in  this  amus- 
ing caricature  of  the  rehearsals  of  a  serious  opera  at  the  house 
of  the  prima  donna  and  at  the  theatre.  Alternately  arch, 
Avhirasical,  playful,  and  capricious,  she  provoked  roars  of  laugh- 
ter by  her  burlesque  singing,  without  advancing  a  step  toward 
vulgarity.  Lablache,  in  the  character  of  the  composer,  Avas 
irresistibly  droll,  especially  iu  the  quarrel  scene  between  him- 
self and  Pasta. 

Anna  Bolena  was  produced  for  Madame  Pasta's  benefit, 


GIUDITTA   PASTA.  265 

when  Lablache  performed  Henry  VIII.  The  mighty  basso 
always  thoroughly  studied  every  part  he  imdertook,  and  on 
this  occasion  he  startled  the  house  by  his  extraordinary  re- 
semblance to  Holbein's  portrait  of  the  arbitrary  monarch. 

In  December,  Madame  Pasta,  after  singing  at  Paris,  took 
leave  of  her  French  admirers  with  an  extra  performance,  con- 
sisting of  Z«  Prova  iVun  Opera  Seria  and  a  concert,  at  which 
all  the  principal  singers  of  the  establishment  assisted.  Her 
last  triumph  was  obtained  at  La  Scala  in  1832.  There  was  an 
admirable  company  assembled  that  season :  Pasta,  the  young 
Giulia  Grisi,  Donzelli,  and  others.  Bellini  wrote  for  these 
artistes  his  opera  of  Korma.  Pasta  performed  the  Druidic 
priestess,  Donzelli  her  lover,  Pollionc,  and  Giulia  Grisi  the  fair 
Adalgisa.  Madame  Pasta  appeared  in  this  opera  the  following 
year  in  London.  It  was  produced  Thursday,  June  2d,  for  her 
benefit,  being  the  chief  novelty  of  the  season,  and  was  directed 
by  the  composer  himself.  Adalgisa  was  performed  by  Ma- 
dame De  Meric,  Pollione  by  Donzelli,  Orovcso  by  Signer  V. 
Galli.  It  was  not  at  first  liked,  though  after  a  little  while  the 
public  discovered  its  beauty.  Pasta's  acting  alone  saved  the 
opera  from  being  almost  a  fiasco. 

For  several  years  after  this,  Pasta  continued  to  perform  in 
Paris  and  the  principal  theatres  in  Italy  with  undiminished 
eclat.  In  1837  she  revisited  England,  and  appeared  at  the 
King's  Theatre  in  Medea,  Norma,  Anna  Bolena,  and  other 
characters ;  but  it  now  began  to  be  remarked  that  though,  as 
nn  actress,  she  was  as  great  as  ever,  her  vocal  powers  were 
beginning  to  fail,  especially  in  regard  to  intonation.  This  was 
her  last  season  in  England,  for  it  is  not  necessary  to  take  into 
account  a  short  visit  in  1850,  when  she  ai-)peared  only  twice  in 
public. 

She  continued,  nevertheless,  to  receive  Continental  honors. 
In  1830  she  was  elected  an  honorary  member  of  the  celebrated 
Accademia  di  Santa  Cecilia  at  Rome;  and  in  1840,  after  a 
splendid  season  at  St.  Petersburg  and  Moscow,  she  was  pre- 
sented by  the  Czar  with  a  valuable  ring. 

In  1841  she  went  to  Berlin.  The  Berlinese  regarded  her 
with  deep  sympathy  and  commiseration,  for  she  had  lost  al- 
most her  entire  fortune — the  Avell-earned  reward  of  her  splen- 
did talents — by  the  failure  of  the  great  bank  of  Guymuller  at 
Vienna.     She  appeared  at  the  Royal  Opera  House  in  a  dra- 

M 


266  QUEENS   OP   SONG. 

matic  concert,  ■with  Herr  Zschiesche  and  Dem.  Lehmann,  in 
costume,  the  music  selected  being  from  Semiramide^  and  (with 
Signer  Gamberini)  a  part  of  Otello.  Subsequently  she  appear- 
ed at  the  Konigstadtischen  Theater  in  Anna  BoUna^  with 
Signora  Ferlotti  and  Signor  Paltrinieri,  a  singer  with  a  fine 
baritone.  She  also  performed  in  Norma  and  Tancredi;  then, 
in  compliance  with  the  wish  of  the  king,  twice  in  Semiramide, 
performing  altogether  eleven  times.  In  October  she  was  at 
Leipzig. 

But  neither  her  voice  nor  her  physical  strength  were  now 
what  they  had  been,  and  she  wisely  retired  from  the  scene  of 
her  triumphs.  For  many  years  she  had  resided  during  the 
winter  at  Milan  or  Genoa,  and  during  the  summer  at  her  villa 
at  Como,  occupying  her  leisure  in  giving  to  artistes  very  valu- 
able lessons.  Mademoiselle  Parodi  was  her  most  distinguish- 
ed pupil. 

Madame  Pasta  had  one  child,  a  daughter,  born  about  1825. 


CATHAErCfE   STEPHENS.  267 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

CATHAEINE    STEPHENS. 

The  transition  from  the  trium])!!  of  the  commanding  genius 
of  a  Pasta  to  the  sweet  and  artless  Catharine  Stephens  is  Uke 
the  sensation  one  would  feel  on  emerging  from  a  classic  tem- 
ple or  a  gorgeous  saloon  into  a  scene  of  simple  nature,  clothed 
with  the  fresh  beauty  of  the  spring. 

The  year  before  Angelica  Catalani  made  her  debut  at  the 
Fenice,  there  was  born  in  London,  on  the  18th  of  Sei:)tember, 
1794,  a  child  who  was  afterward  to  earn  for  herself  the  fame 
of  a  prima  donna;  this  was  Catharine  Stephens;  the  daughter 
of  a  carver  and  gilder  in  Park  Street,  Grosvenor  Square.  At 
her  earliest  age  she  afforded  evidences  that  she  M-ould  be  a 
fine  singer  some  day :  she  lisped  in  song.  Her  elder  sister 
(afterward  Mrs.  J.  Smith)  had  also  a  love  of  music,  and  the 
two  girls  trilled  like  larks.  At  length  their  father  felt  it  his 
duty  to  have  them  properly  taught.  "While  Catharine  was  try- 
ing to  master  the  elements  of  musical  science,  her  sister  made 
her  debut  at  Liverpool,  from  whence  she  came  to  Drnry  Lane, 
appearing  there  in  the  character  of  Miss  Hoyden  in  the  7/v}? 
to  ScarhoroufjJi^  and  Lucy  in  the  Virgin  Unmasked.  Catha- 
rine was  then,  in  1807,  placed  imder  the  tuition  of  Gesualdo 
Lanza,  a  well-known  musical  professor.  From  him  she  learn- 
ed quickly  to  sing  at  sight  with  perfect  correctness,  and  went 
steadily  not  only  through  all  the  gradations  of  solfeggi,  but 
through  a  severe  course  of  vocal  exercises,  with  the  view  of 
acquiring  facility  of  execution  ;  she  also  studied  a  multitude 
of  pieces  of  music  selected  by  Signor  Lanza  from  the  best  En- 
glish and  Italian  Operas  and  from  Oratorios. 

While  Avith  Signor  Lanza  she  sang  at  Bath,  P>ristol,  and 
many  places  along  the  south  coast,  and  on  the  3d  of  October, 
1812,  she  sang  at  Ramsgate  at  a  concert  given  by  Mr.  Samuel 
Wesley  and  Mr.  Webb,  jun.,  "  where,"  said  Samuel  Wesley, 
"she  received  the  greatest  and  most  deserved  applause." 
When  there,  being  called  upon  to  try,  at  sight,  some  manu- 


268  QTJEEXS    OF   SONG.  * 

script  glees,  she  acquitted  herself  in  a  manner  -which  surprised 
the  most  excellent  judges.  Her  friends,  becoming  impatient 
at  her  apparently  tardy  progress  imder  Lanza,  transferred  her 
to  the  charge  of  Mr.  Thomas  Welsh ;  and,  to  poor  Lanza's 
great  mortification,  she  appeared  on  the  l7th  or  18th  of  that 
same  October  at  Manchester  as  "  Mr.  Welsh's  pupil." 

During  her  studies,  Catharine  Stephens  had  been  heard  by 
Signor  Galiloni,  who  recommended  her  to  the  managers  of 
the  Opera  House,  to  supply  the  place  of  Madame  Catalani ; 
but,  not  being  perfect  in  Italian,  she  was  then  ineligible  for 
the  King's  Theatre. 

On  the  23d  of  September,  1813,  Catharine  made  her  first  ac- 
knowledged appearance  at  Covent  Garden  as  Mandane  in  Ar- 
taxerxes,  under  the  name  of  Miss  Stevens,  with  complete  suc- 
cess. Her  execution  of  "  Check'd  by  duty,  rack'd  by  love," 
and  "The  Soldier  tired,"  was  particularly  admired.  But  for 
great  ladies  she  was  not  well  suited,  either  in  person,  voice,  or 
style.  She  was  now  nineteen  ;  her  figure,  of  medium  height, 
was  pretty,  but  inclined  to  embonpoint ;  her  hair  and  eyes 
were  dark,  and  though  not,  strictly  speaking,  handsome,  her 
countenance  had  an  indescribable  fascination,  owing  to  the  in-. 
genuous  simplicity  and  unaffected  sweetness  of  her  nature. 
Her  manner  in  private  life  was  easy,  mild,  and  artless,  and  she 
was  blithe  and  joyous  as  a  child ;  in  truth,  her  animal  spirits 
would  sometimes  completely  run  away  with  her;  and  even 
on  the  stage,  while  playing  parts  which  needed  a  serious  de- 
meanor, if  any  thing  provoked  her  mirth,  she  would  be  in  ago- 
nies, struggling  between  a  desire  to  laugh  and  the  fear  of  of- 
fending the  audience. 

The  tones  of  her  voice  were  rich  and  dulcet,  and  captivated 
the  ear ;  its  quality  was  full  and  liquid  beyond  that  of  any 
other  singer  then  in  England ;  its  volume  was  such  that  it 
could  be  distinctly  heard  above  the  band  and  chorus,  and  its 
compass  reached  to  the  high  D.  Her  ornaments  were  cor- 
rect and  neat,  and  her  execution  was  good,  but  not  remarka- 
ble either  for  rapidity  or  variety.  She  did  not  aim  at  "  stage 
effect,"  and  her  singing  consequently  had  the  peculiar  charm 
of  sincerity  and  artlessness.  She  seemed  to  sing  from  the  im- 
pulse of  her  happy,  joyous  nature,  and  the  delight  she  felt  was 
conveyed  to  her  audience.  There  was  no  fire,  no  deep  senti- 
ment, no  dramatic  power ;  she  had  high  cultivation,  science, 


CATHAKINE   STEPHENS.  269 

polish,  but  she  warbled  so  calmly  and  easily  that  the  audience, 
if  not  deeply  moved,  were  charmed.  Simple  airs  of  innocent 
pathos  were  her  specialty ;  loftier  efforts  seemed  neither 
adapted  to  her  taste  nor  suited  to  her  talent. 

She  appeared  as  Polly  in  the  Begyar''s  Opera  on  the  22d  of 
October,  and  after  that  she  sang  under  her  own  name.  Her 
personation  of  Polly  was  exquisite.  "Two  hours  spent  at  this 
performance,"  said  an  enthusiastic  admirer, "  is  a  little  glossy 
portion  of  the  stream  of  life  —  a  season  of  calm  joy,  which 
it  is  tranquillizing  even  to  remember."  The  unobtrusive- 
ness  of  her  style,  the  very  "  bewitching  awkwardness"  of  her 
manner,  completed  the  pleasure  whicli  her  performance  aflbrd- 
ed.  On  the  12th  of  November  she  perfoi-med  Clara  in  the 
Duenna.  Then  she  appeared  as  Rosetta,  whicli  she  acted 
charmingly.  In  the  song,  "Young  I  am,  and  sore  afraid," 
the  ill -repressed  laugh,  and  the  irony  gleaming  through  her 
feigned  tears,  were  most  admirable.  Iler  freshness,  her  sim- 
plicity, atoned  for  any  coldness  of  conception.  When  she  ad- 
vanced to  sing,  with  a  lovely  pleading  look  in  her  eyes,  depre- 
cating criticism,  the  heart  was  at  once  enlisted  in  her  favor, 
and  it  was  impossible  to  find  fault  with  the  singer  while  the 
woman  thus  disarmed  the  critic.  The  softness  and  delicacy 
of  her  voice,  and  the  purity  of  her  taste,  were  universally  ac- 
knowledged, and  she  was  admitted  to  be  exempt  from  the 
prevailing  sin  of  a  mixture  of  styles. 

Her  own  style  was  best  adapted  for  ballad-singing:  such 
songs  as  "Auld  Robin  Gray,"  and  "Savourneen  Deelish,"  she 
sang  with  so  much  ease,  pouring  forth  her  sweet,  rich  tones 
with  birdlike  volubility,  that  it  was  impossible  to  imagine  her 
suffering  from  the  distress  which  the  song  was  written  to  por- 
tray. "  Even  the  effects  of  her  full  and  fine  crescendo  and  dy- 
ing fall  are  lost,"  observed  a  writer  in  the  Quarterly  Musical 
Beview,  "  and  it  is  by  them  that  the  workings  of  passion  or 
the  sinkings  of  the  soul  arc  pictured."  But  there  is  a  pecul- 
iar charm  in  the  simple  utterance  of  a  ballad  by  a  sweet, 
round,  ringing  voice,  which  is  deejily  felt,  and  the  heart  is  the 
more  surely  touched  because  of  the  absence  of  effort  or  inten- 
tion on  the  part  of  the  siuger.  If  Miss  Stephens  was  incapable 
of  force,  passion,  or  brilliancy,  it  was  owing  to  an  innate  re- 
serve that  veiled  her  powers,  for  in  private  society  she  threw 
off  every  tinge  of  coldness.     "  I  have  heard  her  sing  '  Auld 


270  QUEENS   OF   SONG. 

Robin  Gray,'  without  the  music,  in  a  style  that  certainly  came 
from  the  heart,  and  went  at  once  to  the  heart,"  said  another 
writer. 

The  public  were  charmed  with  a  singer  so  thoroughly  En- 
glish^ and  the  manager  gave  her  what  was  then  considered  a 
large  salary — twelve  pounds  a  week  for  the  first  year  for  sing- 
ing thrice  a  week,  and  twenty  pounds  the  second  year.  Of 
this  salary  Mr.  Welsh  received  half,  though  it  was  rather  due 
to  poor  Lanza. 

In  March,  1814,  Miss  Stephens  made  her  first  appearance  at 
the  Ancient  Concerts  in  Acis  and  Galatea^  and  during  this 
season  her  talents  were  severely  tested  in  the  most  popular 
arias,  such  as  "  Ye  sacred  priests,"  "  Angels  ever  bright  and 
fair,"  "  Holy,  holy,"  "  Mad  Bess,"  «  Pious  Orgies,"  "  I  know 
that  my  Redeemer  liveth,"  "  From  rosy  bowers,"  "  Berenice, 
ove  sei?"  with  many  others.  Immediately  after  her  debut  at 
the  Ancient  Concerts  she  sang  at  the  fourth  of  the  Philhar- 
monic Society's  Concerts  with  Braham,  and  in  July  she  sang 
at  two  concerts  at  York.  Her  singing  of  sacred  music  seemed 
to  want  that  depth  of  pathos  and  exalted  fervor  which  awaken 
the  soul.  She  excelled  in  the  simple,  pure,  chaste  English 
style ;  and  she  was  fitted  for  homely  characters  in  low  come- 
dy, not  for  fine  ladies  or  fashionable  heroines.  As  a  singer 
only,  however,  she  pleased  in  every  thing;  her  dulcet  notes 
were  sufiiciently  charming  in  themselves,  and  a  certain  native 
quiet  humor  and  sense  of  enjoyment  supplied  the  place  of 
higher  attributes.  Her  execution  of  the  "  Pretty  Mocking- 
Bird"  was  often  cited  as  one  of  the  most  perfect  specimens  of 
vocal  power  ever  heard.  One  result  of  her  serene  and  smooth 
vocalization  was  that  the  ear  never  became  satiated  with  her 
efiects;  she  had  no  favorite  passages,  no  pet  cadence  intro- 
duced alike  into  all  her  songs :  no  musical  mannerism  disfig- 
ured her  style. 

In  February,  1815,  a  piece  called  Brother  and  Sister,  by 
Bishop  and  Reeve,  was  produced.  In  this  Miss  Stephens  sang 
a  song  by  Bishop,  wherein,  in  imitation  of  Braham's  song  in 
ITarensJcy,  she  gave  an  echo  to  her  own  voice.  Its  success 
was  extraordinary :  the  echo  of  her  own  voice  seemed  as  if  it 
was  produced,  not  by  the  singer,  but  by  a  viewless  power,  so 
aerial  and  delicate  were  its  tones.  She  achieved  a  triumph  in 
this  song,  which  always  remained  a  favorite. 


CATHAKIXE  STEPHENS.  271 

Miss  Stephens's  character  in  private  life  was  most  amiable ; 
polite  and  easy  in  her  manner,  she  was  also  benevolent  and 
charitable  without  ostentation.  On  the  occasion  of  a  benefit 
for  Diilwich  Hospital,  she  not  only  returned  the  price  of  her 
f  services,  thirty  guineas,  but  added  ten  from  her  own  purse ; 
and  again  in  DubUu  she  gave  to  the  poor  £330,  the  proceeds 
of  a  benefit  concert.  And  these  are  only  a  few  instances  of 
her  generosity.  She  was  Avholly  unaffected,  and  never  arro- 
gated to  herself  undue  consideration  because  she  was  a  popu- 
lar singer.  "  I  shall  never  forget  seeing  her  at  a  private  par- 
ty," says  an  author  in  KnigMs  Quarterly  Magazine,  "  where, 
with  the  most  unafiiected  good -nature,  she  offered  to  sing 
second  to  a  child  with  a  very  beautiful  voice.  'If  I  am 
wanted,'  she  said ;  but  she  did  not  make  the  offer  until  a  real 
difiiculty  had  arisen  about  a  singer,  so  it  was  evident  that  her 
only  motive  was  to  be  of  use."  Toward  her  professional  com- 
rades she  was  exceedingly  kind,  and  was  ever  ready  to  take 
their  place,  even  at  a  moment's  notice,  if  they  needed  it.  She 
was  industrious  in  study,  feeling  that  it  was  necessary  she 
should  work  to  retain  the  reputation  she  had  earned,  aud  for 
eight  or  sometimes  nine  hours  a  day  she  practiced  all  the  year 
round,  only  relaxing  when  her  throat  needed  rest  from  exer- 
tion, and  then  she  would  take  a  walk  until  it  had  recovered 
from  the  fatigue. 

One  gentleman  who  lost  his  heart  to  her  in  1815  regularly 
attended  all  her  performances.  Waiting  till  the  doors  were 
opened,  he  seated  himself  in  the  third  or  fourth  row  of  the  pit, 
and  the  instant  the  opera  was  concluded,  flew  round  and 
placed  himself  at  the  stage-door,  to  catch  a  glinijose  of  the  en- 
chantress as  she  passed  to  her  carriage.  He  was  so  despe- 
rately smitten  that  ho  followed  her  to  Ipswich,  and  once  even, 
it  was  believed,  to  Dublin,  in  hopes  of  meeting  her  if  she  by 
chance  should  go  out  for  a  walk ;  but  he  never  had  the  cour- 
age to  gain  an  introduction.  The  ill-fated  gentleman,  sad  to 
relate,  ended  his  days  in  a  lunatic  asylum ;  but  whether  he 
went  mad  through  love  for  the  charming  Kitty,  or  whether  he 
fell  in  love  because  he  was  a  madman,  is  a  problem  not  now 
to  be  solved. 

The  extraordinary  popularity  of  Mozart's  Don  Giovanni  at 
the  King's  Theatre  induced  the  proprietor  of  Covent  Garden 
to  bring  out  an  English  version  of  the  opera,  arranged  by  Mr. 


272  QUEENS   OF   SONG. 

BishoiD.  It  was  produced  on  the  20th  of  May,  1817,  and  the 
principal  parts  were  well  sustained  by  Sinclair,  Duruset,  and 
Miss  Stephens.  As  Donna  Anna  she  was  not  equal  to  Ma- 
dame Fodor,  but  she  was  encored  in  the  beautiful  air  in  the 
second  act.  The  success  of  this  production  originated  the 
practice  of  adapting  to  the  English  stage  the  most  emhient 
works  of  foreign  composers. 

The  operas  in  which  Miss  Stephens  performed  were,  how- 
ever, generally  very  indifierent,  and  little  worthy  even  of  a 
passing  notice,  being  nothing  more  than  "  operatic  dramas." 
In  February,  1821,  she  ajjpeared  in  the  Beggar's  Opera^  but 
very  soon  after  she  broke  with  Covent  Garden  in  consequence 
of  dlisputes  with  the  manager.  She  received  a  salary  of  twen- 
ty pounds  for  playing  thrice  in  each  week,  but  she  demanded 
an  advance  of  five  pounds  a  week.  The  manager  objected, 
there  being  a  rule  requiring  that  if  one  performer's  salary  was 
raised,  all  must  be  advanced.  The  proprietors  offered  to  make 
up  the  amount  by  presents,  but  the  popular  singer  refused  this 
reasonable  arrangement ;  and  then  she  demanded  ten  pounds 
a  night.  This  was  peremptorily  refused,  and  she  went  olT  to 
Drury  Lane,  then  under  the  management  of  Elliston, 

She  did  not  agree  much  better  with  him ;  indeed,  he  did 
not  act  well  toward  her.  One  of  the  conditions  in  the  articles 
of  agreement  entered  into  by  the  leading  performers  was  that 
they  should  not  be  required  to  appear  in  pantomimes;  yet, 
on  the  production  oi  Harlequin  and  the  flying  CAes^,  Elliston 
summoned  all  his  singers  to  take  part  in  the  music.  Relying 
on  the  terms  of  her  articles,  Miss  StejDhens  paid  no  attention 
to  this  call,  so  Elliston  inflicted  a  heavy  fine.  She  was  indig- 
nant, and  remonstrated :  "  I  never  agreed  to  go  on  in  a  pan- 
tomime," said  she,  a  little  passionately.  "  My  dear  soul,"  an- 
swered the  wily  manager,  "  I  don't  wish  it.  I  only  want  you 
to  join  in  the  chorus  ofii'the  wings;"  and  he  retained  the  fine. 

At  Drury  Lane  Miss  Stephens  received  but  little  attention, 
owing  probably  to  the  exceedingly  indifierent  music  she  was 
condemned  to  sing.  The  pieces  were  at  first  pretty  good, 
though  garbled  and  maltreated.  Dramatized  adaj^tations  of 
Scott's  novels,  and  difiereut  ephemeral  operettas,  formed  the 
repertoire  from  which  Miss  Stephens  had  to  choose  her  parts. 
In  August,  1822,  she  appeared  in  Der  Freischictz, -with.  Braham 
and  T.  Cook.     This  opera  gave  great  satisfaction  to  the  fre- 


CATHAEINE   STEPHENS.  273 

quenters  of  Drury  Lane ;  but  what  with  "  introductions"  and 
"  omissions,"  it  must  have  been  a  droll  affair.  In  1830  Bishop 
went  over  to  Paris,  when  Guillcmme  Tell  was  at  its  height  of 
popularity.  He  attended  the  performance  two  or  three  times, 
took  notes  literally  as  well  as  figuratively,  and,  returning  to 
England,  produced,  in  conjunction  w^ith  Mr.  Planche,  Hofer^ 
the  Tdl  of  the  Tyrol.  This  piece  was  very  splendidly  mount- 
ed, and  brought  forward  at  Covent  Garden,  May  1, 1830,  with 
Miss  Stephens,  Madame  Yestris,  H.  PhilUps,  and  Smclair,  m  the 
leading  characters. 

Miss  Stephens's  earnings  were  now  on  an  average  about 
£5000  per  annum.  The  theatre  yielded  her  £1500;  the  An- 
cient Concerts  produced  £330 ;  the  oratorios  £200 ;  occasional 
appearances  at  the  Philharmonic,  City  Amateur,  and  the  City 
Concerts,  about  £200  more.  Iler  earnings  by  singing  at  pri- 
vate parties  could  not  be  computed :  by  a  visit  to  Ireland 
alone  she  gained  £5000.  Young,  charming,  clever,  and  rich 
too — for  she  was  prudent  as  fortunate — of  a  generous  nature, 
an  affectionate  daughter,  a  kind  sister,  and  an  amiable  friend 
' — some  surprise  was  felt  that  she  should  not  have  married. 
Lord  Milton  was  at  one  time  supposed  to  be  madly  enamored 
of  the  fair  English  songstress ;  and  the  Duke  of  Devonshire 
too,  at  whose  splendid  parties  she  frequently  appeared,  was 
thought  to  be  in  love  with  her.  At  last  the  Earl  of  Essex,  a 
widower,  who  had  long  been  her  ardent  admirer,  offered  her 
a  coronet,  was  accepted,  and  the  marriage  took  place  Thurs- 
day, March  14, 1838,  at  his  lordship's  house  in  Belgrave  Square. 
The  bridegroom  was  eighty -two,  the  bride  forty -five.  The 
earl  settled  on  his  bride  a  splendid  jointure,  and  allowed  her 
to  leave  her  relations  the  whole  of  her  own  property,  which 
had  so  long  been  at  their  disposal.  He  survived  but  a  short 
time  to  enjoy  her  society,  and  by  his  death  she  became  Dow- 
ager Countess  of  Essex. 

18  M  2 


274  QUEE^fS   or  SONG. 


CHAPTER  XXII.      ■ 

MAKT     ANNE     PATON. 

TowAED  the  end  of  the  last  century,  a  respectable  and  well- 
educated  tutor,  named  Paton,  was  at  the  head  of  a  mathemat- 
ical seminary  in  Edinburgh,  and  his  classes  were  so  numerous- 
ly attended  that,  for  a  considerable  time,  he  was  in  the  receipt 
of  £2000  i^er  annum.  His  family  consisted  of  Mary  Anne, 
Isabella,  and  Eliza.     Mary  Anne,  the  eldest,  was  born  in  1802. 

Mary  Anne  had  a  gift  and  a  passion  for  music  from  her 
earliest  childhood.  When  only  two  years  old  she  could  name 
any  tone  or  semitone  on  hearing  it  sounded.  She  sang  like  a 
skylark,  and  was  perpetually  warbling  her  "  wood-notes  wild," 
flying  about  the  house,  and  scattering  in  sportive  profusion 
trills  and  shakes  on  every  note  in  her  voice.  She  joyfully 
agreed,  while  yet  a  child,  to  imdergo  the  drudgery  of  learning 
the  harp  and  piano-forte,  and  when  little  more  than  four  years 
of  age,  in  1806,  she  performed  on  these  instruments.  Not 
content  with  executing  the  compositions  of  others,  she  next 
insisted  on  producing  some  of  her  own,  and  in  1807  some  fan- 
tasias, etc.,  were  published  under  her  name.  Her  infantile  tal- 
ent attracted  the  notice  of  the  Duchess  of  Buccleugh,  with 
whom,  one  of  her  biographers  gravely  asserts,  Mary  Anne,  at 
the  age  of ^ye,  held  a  correspondence  regarding  some  of  her 
baby  musical  productions. 

In  1810  Miss  Paton  appeared  at  several  concerts  in  Edin- 
burgh, where  she  sang,  played  on  the  harp  and  piano-forte, 
and  recited  Collins's  "  Ode  to  the  Passions"  (a  favorite  piece 
with  young  ladies  at  the  period),  "Alexander's  Feast,"  and 
some  similar  morceaux.  Some  of  these  concerts  were  patron- 
ized by  the  Duchess  of  Buccleugh,  the  Duchess  of  Gordon, 
and  other  distinguished  ladies.  The  young  girl  had  no  other 
instructors,  it  may  be  observed,  up  to  this  time,  than  her  father 
and  mother.  This  circumstance  afterward  proved  disadvan- 
tageous to  her  in  many  respects,  when  she  came  into  competi- 
tion with  the  leading  singers  of  the  day. 


MAEY  A2>0<rE  PATON.  275 

Miss  Paton  inherited  her  musical  abilities  by  rightful  de- 
scent. Her  grandmother,  though  not  a  professional  vocalist, 
was  so  good  a  performer  on  the  violin  that  her  fiime  became 
widely  spread  in  the  neighborhood  of  Strathbogie  (now  Hunt- 
ley), in  Aberdeenshire,  where  she  lived.  The  Duke  of  Cum- 
berland, on  his  way  to  Culloden,  stopped  to  pay  her  a  visit, 
and  was  so  pleased  with  the  style  in  which  she  executed  some 
Scotch  melodies  that  he  presented  her  with  a  superb  scarf  of 
silk  tartan,  which  was  long  preserved  in  the  family  as  an  hon- 
orable testimony  to  her  musical  skill. 

Mr.  Paton  quitted  Edinburgh  about  1811.  He  entertained 
peculiar  ideas  regarding  the  Christian  disj^ensation,  and  ortho- 
doxy taking  the  alarm,  he  gradually  lost  that  professional  con- 
nection which  his  talents  and  agreeable  manners  had  drawn 
together ;  he  therefore  came  to  London  and  opened  an  acad- 
e!iiy.  Meantime,  Mary  Anne  continued  her  studies,  with  little 
or  no  assistance  from  masters.  She  desired  to  place  herself 
under  the  tuition  of  Mr.  Bishop,  but  for  some  reason  he  de- 
clined receiving  her  as  a  pupil ;  and  she  met  with  a  similar  re- 
buff from  many  eminent  professors,  who  felt  certain  that  she 
had  no  chance  of  success. 

Miss  Paton  appeared  from  time  to  time  during  1812, 1813, 
and  the  early  part  of  1814  at  fashionable  concerts;  but  public 
concerts  were  then,  unfortunately,  monopolized  by  a  few  prin- 
cipal vocalists  of  acknowledged  reputation,  who  introduced 
the  pupils  of  such  masters  as  could  easily  secure  their  success. 
Miss  Paton  offered  her  services,  gratuitously,  to  almost  every 
manager  in  the  metropolis,  without  meeting  with  any  encour- 
aging response.  Her  health  suffered  very  much  about  this 
period,  and  her  general  education  not  having  advanced  in  pro- 
portion to  her  musical  knowledge,  her  friends  counseled  her 
temporary  withdrawal  from  public;  she  therefore  refrained 
from  singing,  except  occasionally  at  private  parties.  In  1820 
she  appeared  at  the  Bath  concerts,  where  she  made  a  favorable 
impression,  and  she  next  sang  at  Huntingdon,  at  two  concerts 
given  by  the  organist  of  that  town. 

At  last  Mr,  Morris,  of  the  Haymarket,  agreed  to  give  her  a 
chance  of  making  an  essay  on  the  stage,  and  on  the  3d  of  Au- 
gust, 1822,  Miss  Paton  made  her  first  courtesy  as  Susanna,  in 
the  Marriage  of  Figaro ;  foreign  music  with  English  words 
being  now  all  the  vogue.     She  was  a  very  agreeable-looking 


276  QUEENS   OF  SONG. 

girl ;  her  figure  was  about  the  middle  height,  slender  and  del- 
icate; her  hair  and  eyes  were  dark,  her  complexion  clear. 
Her  face  was  not  very  beautiful  when  in  repose,  but  when 
animated  in  acting  or  singing,  its  expression  reflected  every 
change  of  sentiment,  and  her  countenance  beamed  with  vivac- 
ity. Never  was  success  more  decided  or  more  deserved.  She 
subsequently  performed  Rosina  in  the  Barber  of  Seville,  and 
Lydia  in  3Iormng,  Noon,  and  Night — an  opera  now  forgot- 
ten :  in  it  she  introduced  the  Scotch  ballad  of  "  Mary  of  Castle 
Carey,"  a  ballad  in  which  she  had  been  frequently  applauded. 
She  also  performed  Polly  in  the  Beggar's  Opera. 

Two  months  after.  Miss  Paton  was  engaged  at  Covent  Gar- 
den, replacing  Miss  Stephens  in  the  first  characters.  Morris, 
in  his  farevf  ell  address  at  the  Haymarket,  alluded  most  kindly 
to  her,  and  eulogized  her  talents.  On  the  19th  of  October  she 
made  her  appearance  at  Covent  Garden  as  Polly,  and  repeated 
that  character  two  or  three  times ;  but  her  name  was  sudden- 
ly omitted  from  the  bills  until  the  7th  of  December,  when  she 
appeared  as  Mandane.  Curiosity  was  naturally  excited  as  to 
the  reason  of  this  singular  conduct  of  the  management :  the 
singer's  indisposition  had  been  assigned  as  the  cause,  but  the 
truth  soon  became  known.  Miss  A.  M.  Tree,  it  appeared,  had 
peremptorily  refused  to  appear  with  Miss  Paton,  except  on  the 
condition  of  her  rival  playing  second  to  her,  which  the  quality 
of  their  respective  voices  rendered  absurd ;  besides,  Miss  Pa- 
ton had  been  engaged  to  perform  first  characters  only.  The 
part  of  Susanna  in  the  Marriage  of  Figaro  was  given  to  her, 
and  she  was  announced  in  the  bills  to  appear  in  that  charac- 
ter ;  but  the  manager  informed  her  that  Miss  Tree  had  refused 
to  play  the  Countess,  and  begged  that  she  would  take  the  part 
alternately  with  that  of  the  Countess,  that  the  piece  might  be 
brought  forward,  and  her  sister  singer  saved  from  incurring  a 
heavy  penalty.  Miss  Paton  assented  in  this  instance  only, 
but  was  afterward  informed  by  the  manager  that  the  same 
difficulties  remained,  unless  she  conceded  the  part  of  Susanna 
to  Miss  Tree  on  the  first  night.  To  this  concession,  also,  she 
kindly  agreed.  On  her  benefit  night  this  season  her  sister  Is- 
abella (afterward  of  Drury  Lane  Theatre)  made  her  appear- 
ance as  Letitia  Hardy. 

The  revival  of  Shakspeare's  plays  with  music  proved  a  more 
fertile  source  of  jealousy  between  the  rival  sirens.    In  Febru- 


MAEY   ANNE   PATON.  277 

ary,  1823,  tlicy  performed  together  iu  the  Comedy  of  Errors. 
Miss  Paton,  as  Adriana,  sang  the  "Willow"  song  from  Othello, 
and  "  Come  live  with  me  and  be  my  love,"  very  sweetly ;  but 
she  surpassed  herself  in  "  Lo !  here  the  gentle  lark,"  from  Ve- 
nus and  Adonis.  The  duet  with  Miss  Tree,  "  Tell  me,  where 
is  fancy  bred,"  was  finely  executed,  and  Miss  Tree  performed 
Luciana  charmingly.  Jones  and  Duruset  were  the  two  Anti- 
pholises,  and  Farreu  and  Blanchard  were  very  comic  repre- 
sentatives of  the  two  Dromios. 

When  Miss  Stephens's  engagement  at  the  English  Opera 
House  was  concluded,  Miss  Paton  took  her  place,  to  execute 
the  music  of  Der  Freischiltz,  which  was  produced  July  22, 
1823.  Braham,  who  had  an  arduous  part,  exerted  himself  to 
the  utmost  in  this  opera,  and  Miss  Paton,  in  the  grand  sccna, 
"  Before  my  eyes  beheld  him,"  displayed  her  vocal  powers  to 
the  greatest  advantage.  She  was  essentially  a  British  song- 
stress. Her  voice  was  sweet,  brilliant,  and  powerful,  its  com- 
pass extending  from  A  to  D  or  E,  or  above  eighteen  or  nine- 
teen notes,  and  her  intonation  was  correct.  "  Miss  Paton," 
said  an  able  critic  in  the  Quarterly  Musical  Bevieio,  "  is  cer- 
tainly gifted  with  extraordinary  vocal  powers,  and  with  en- 
thusiasm and  intellectual  vigor  of  no  common  kind.  She  has 
not  yet  reached  her  twenty-first  year,  yet  her  technical  attain- 
ments, we  are  disposed  to  think,  are  nearly  as  great  as  those 
of  any  vocalist  in  this  country."  But  there  were  certain 
slight  reservations:  "her  shake,"  it  Avas  added,  "was  too  close, 
too  rapid,  and  too  hard ;  the  trifling  accent  which  this  grace 
will  bear  is  wrongly  placed,"  thus  depriving  it  of  its  value  in 
expression,  to  which  every  species  of  ornament  ought  essen- 
tially to  contribute.  "  No  difficulties  appall  or  embarrass  her," 
continues  the  same  critic.  "  Nor  is  it  to  the  execution  of  pas- 
sages as  they  are  written  that  she  confines  herself.  Even  in 
Rossini's  most  rapid  airs  she  changes,,  and  at  the  same  time 
multiplies  the  notes,  in  a  way  that  few,  even  of  the  most  ma- 
tured vocalists,  venture  to  attain."  Oi  i]iQ  judgment  of  such 
alterations  the  critic  declines  to  speak,  merely  stating  a  fact 
which  demonstrated  Miss  Paton's  facility.  Her  style  was 
naturally  florid,  and  she  cultivated  elaborate  execution,  it  be- 
ing the  fashion  of  the  time  to  admire  exuberant  ornament.  In 
October,  1823,  at  a  concert  given  for  the  benefit  of  the  then 
nascent  Royal  Academy  of  Music,  almost  the  only  encore  of 


278  QUEENS   OP   SONG. 

the  night  was  accorded  to  the  duet  "SulP  Aria,"  sung  by 
Miss  Paton  and  Miss  A.  M.  Tree.  This  sweet  and  beautiful 
melody  was  made  "  a  mere  ground  for  the  ladies  to  embroider 
upon ;  and  they  manifested  as  much  ingenuity  and  as  much 
execution  as  possible,  though  at  the  expense  of  sound  taste." 
In  addition  to  the  allurement  of  conscious  power.  Miss  Paton 
be^ran  to  imitate  Catalani,  and  she  did  so  with  success,  how- 
ever  much  it  Avas  regretted  by  true  lovers  of  song. 

Miss  Paton  had  warm  sensibility,  and  this  was  "displayed 
in  the  vigor  with  which  she  embodies  the  conceiDtions  of  a 
comj^osei',  not  less  than  in  her  fancy  when  she  varies  them. 
She  gives  impressive  passionate  recitative  with  dignity  or  pa- 
thos, as  these  emotions  vary.  She  can  do  this  from  herself." 
Unfortunately,  her  finer  qualities  were  sometimes  obscured 
by  her  imitation  of  Catalani,  which  was  so  obvious  that  no 
one  who  had  ever  heard  the  marvelous  Italian  could  avoid  re- 
marking it,  especially  when  she  sang  one  of  Catalani's  airs. 
"Miss  Paton  and  Miss  Stephens,"  says  another  critic,  "are 
the  two  greatest  English  singers  that  we  now  have,  or  per- 
haps that  ever  coexisted  (and  we  say  this  with  a  jjerfect  re- 
membrance of  the  claims  of  Mrs.  Salmon,  Mrs.  Dickons,  Miss 
Tree,  and  Miss  Gradden) ;  and  our  heroine  has  the  best  ear 
and  the  most  extensive  voice :  in  bravuras  she  is  decidedly  su- 
perior to  her  rival,  and  in  many  ballads  equal  to  her ;  witness 
her  '  On  the  Banks  of  Allan  Water,'  etc.,  etc.  Miss  Paton's 
voice  is  more  brilliant,  but  less  soothing  than  Miss  Stephens's ; 
and  this  quality,  which  Miss  Stephens  possesses  so  abundantly, 
seems  a  part  of  her  nature.  Miss  Paton  has  compass,  power, 
smoothness,  enunciation ;  in  fact,  every  thing  that  would  con- 
stitute a  great  singer,  as  far  as  singing  is  an  art ;  but  there  is 
something  beyond  all  this  to  be  found.  Her  personal  nature 
is  exquisitely  blended  with  the  efiect  of  art.  Miss  Stephens 
has  a  honeyed  sweetness  in  her  tone,  a  richness  that  seems  to 
spring  from  her  heart  to  her  lips,  and  which  we  have  found 
in  no  one  else." 

At  this  time  Miss  Paton  became  acquainted  with  a  young 
gentleman  named  Blood,  a  surgeon  of  St.  Thomas's  Hospital, 
who  was  of  good  family,  and  (though  he  did  not  boast  of  the 
circumstance)  was  a  lineal  descendant  of  the  notorious-Colonel 
Blood.  He  was  a  tall,  elegant-looking  young  fellow,  was  ac- 
complished, and  passionately  fond  of  music.     He  moved  in 


MAKY   ANNE   PATON.  21 9 

good  society,  and  was  likely  to  advance  in  bis  profession,  in 
which  he  was  very  skillful.  His  devotion  to  music,  howevei-, 
led  him  astray,  and  he  went  so  far  as  to  make  his  debut  at  the 
Lyceum  as  Don  Carlos,  in  the  Duenna,  which  was  performed 
for  the  benefit  of  a  friend,  when  he  was  warmly  applauded. 
He  also  performed  in  Dublin  and  other  places  with  much  suc- 
cess, and  afterward  obtained  an  engagement  at  the  Haymarket 
Theatre,  where  he  made  his  debut,  under  the  name  of  Davis, 
as  Captain  Macheath;  but  his  success  was  very  moderate. 
Miss  Paton,  being  engaged  at  the  Haymarket  at  the  same 
time,  performed  with  him  in  the  Berjgar''s  Opera,  and  was 
struck  with  his  agreeable  manner  and  handsome  figure.  A 
mutual  attachment  was  the  result  of  their  acquaintance,  and 
Mr.  Blood  made  her  an  oflfer  of  marriage,  which  she  accepted ; 
his  betrothed  then  exerted  her  influence  with  the  manager, 
and  obtained  for  him  an  engagement  at  Covent  Garden  Thea- 
tre. But  an  unforeseen  obstacle  arose  to  mar  the  happiness 
of  the  lovers.  Mr.  Paton,  angered  beyond  measure,  vehement- 
ly refused  his  consent  to  the  match,  and  threatened  the  mana- 
ger that  if  young  Blood  were  permitted  to  come  behind  the 
scenes  of  the  theatre  to  see  Miss  Paton,  he  should  break  her 
engagement.  "  If  you  marry  him  you  will  work  for  an  ad- 
venturer," said  her  father;  "if  you  must  have  a  husband,  wait, 
and  you  will,  no  doubt,  get  a  lord."  Rather  than  injure  his 
betrothed  in  her  profession  or  with  her  family,  Mr.  Blood  vol- 
untarily threw  up  his  own  engagement.  He  had  offered  to 
make  a  settlement  of  £200  per  annum  njDon  her  parents. 

Mary  Anne,  notwithstanding  her  father's  opposition,  at  first 
determined  to  decide  for  herself.  She  said  to  a  friend  of  her 
lover's,  "  Tell  Blood  that  I  would  marry  him,  even  if  he  were 
a  shepherd's  boy,  and  had  no  more  than  a  penny  a  day,"  In- 
deed, she  exceeded  him  in  protestations  of  affection,  and  a  day 
was  ultimately  fixed  for  their  marriage.  But,  on  the  very 
morning  that  was  to  see  the  lovers  united,  the  bride  for  the 
first  time  hesitated  and  drew  back,  stating  that  prudential 
motives  induced  her  for  the  present  to  recede.  She  then  ab- 
ruptly returned  her  lover's  presents,  with  a  message  to  the  ef- 
fect that  he  might  shortly  have  occasion  to  put  them  to  an- 
other use ;  and  the  rejected  lover  attempted  in  vain  to  gain  an 
explanation  of  her  strange  conduct. 

Piqued  by  this  treatment,  Mr.  Blood  returned  to  his  own 


280  QUEENS   OF  SONG. 

profession,  and  offered  his  hand  to  Miss  Dance,  another  act- 
ress, of  whom  probably  Miss  Paton  had  been  made  jealous. 
He  was  accepted,  and  they  were  married,  and  went  to  reside 
at  Bath,  where  he  practiced  successfully  as  a  surgeon. 

Miss  Paton  was  now  observed  to  droop  and  become  melan- 
choly :  her  health  appeared  to  be  failing ;  she  grew  thin  and 
wasted,  and  her  aspect  excited  the  compassion  of  every  one 
who  saw  her.  Whether  on  the  stage  or  in  the  concert-room, 
every  effort  at  gayety  was  succeeded  by  a  marked  dejection, 
and  she  seemed  utterly  careless  of  herself,  as  if  sunk  in  despair. 
Among  the  young  men  of  fashion  who  had  the  privilege  of  go- 
ing behind  the  scenes  at  the  theatre  was  Lord  William  Len- 
nox,  who  soon  fixed  his  regards  on  the  young  prima  donna. 
His  attentions  were  most  assiduous,  and  eventually  he  made 
her  an  offer  of  his  hand,  on  condition  that  the  marriage  should 
be  kept  secret.  Timid,  undecided,  and  easily  swayed  by  oth- 
ers. Miss  Paton  consented.  Post-horses  were  ordered  for  a 
precipitate  flight,  and  in  1824  the  marriage  took  place,  under 
circumstances  of  some  mystery.  Pier  father's  prediction  was 
fulfilled:  she  had  "got  a  lord." 

In  1824,  Weber  received  a  proposition  from  Covent  Garden 
to  write  an  opera,  and  after  having  long  hesitated  on  the 
choice  of  his  subject,  he  at  length  chose  Oberon.  As  a  clever 
critic  observed,  "He  could  not  have  selected  one  better  adapt- 
ed to  the  display  of  his  peculiar  genius.  It  contains  descrip- 
tions of  air,  of  earth,  and  heaven — the  enchantments  of  fairy- 
land, the  ardor  of  chivalry,  the  tenderness  of  passion,  the  dan- 
gers of  the  sea,  and,  above  all,  the  magic  powers  of  the  ivory 
horn ;  and  this  variety,  which  would  have  paralyzed  an  ordi- 
nary man,  has  only  roused  him  to  commensurate  exertion,  and 
affords  him  a  field  for  the  more  amj^le  display  of  the  glory  of 
his  art."  A  correspondence  was  then  opened  between  the 
director  of  the  theatre  and  the  composer,  with  reference  to 
the  epoch  in  which  the  scene  should  be  laid ;  this  being  ar- 
ranged, the  management  wished  to  have  the  piece  ready  in 
three  months.  "Three  months!"  echoed  the  composer,  writ- 
ing back.  "  Why,  they  would  not  be  sufficient  to  read  the  li- 
bretto and  sketch  the  plan  in  my  brain !"  Indeed,  Weber  em- 
ployed nearly  eighteen  months  in  finishing  his  task. 

When  Weber  arrived  in  London,  his  first  visit,  of  course, 
was  to  Covent  Garden  Theatre,  where  he  saw  his  own  liVei- 


MAKY   A20rE   PATON.  281 

schiitz  performed.  His  presence  was  discovered  by  the  audi- 
ence, and  a  storm  of  enthusiasm  ensued.  In  one  of  his  charm- 
ing letters  to  his  wife,  he  gave  an  account  of  his  reception,  and 
made  some  remarks  on  the  performance  of  his  opera.  The 
passage  ought  never  to  be  forgotten,  showing,  as  it  does,  how 
different  was  the  judgment  on  the  merits  of  our  EngUsh  per- 
formers, given  by  a  great  German  artist,  from  the  superciUous 
tone  adopted  by  many  of  our  so-called  critics,  who  think  they 
display  their  acumen  by  depreciating  the  talent  of  their  own 
country, 

"  Could  a  man,"  said  Weber,  "  wish  for  more  enthusiasm  or 
more  love  ?  I  must  confess  that  I  was  comjDletely  overjjower- 
ed  by  it,  though  I  am  of  a  calm  disposition,  and  somewhat  ac- 
customed to  such  scenes.  I  know  not  what  I  would  have 
given  to  have  had  you  by  my  side,  that  you  might  have  seen 
me  in  my  foreign  garb  of  honor.  And  now,  dear  love,  I  can 
assure  you  that  you  may  be  quite  at  ease,  both  as  to  the  sing- 
ers and  the  orchestra.  Miss  Paton  is  a  singer  of  the  first 
rank,  and  will  play  Reiza  divinely.  Braham  not  less  so,  though 
in  a  totally  different  style.  There  are  also  several  good  tenors, 
and  I  really  can  not  see  why  the  English  singing  should  be  so 
much  abused.  The  singers  have  a  j^erfectly  good  Italian  edu- 
cation, fine  voices  and  expression.  The  orchestra  is  not  re- 
markable, but  still  very  good,  and  the  choruses  particularly  so. 
In  short,  I  feel  quite  at  ease  as  to  the  fate  of  Oheron}'' 

The  production  of  Oberon  was  not  effected  without  more 
difficulties  than  Weber  had  contcmj^lated.  Innumerable  prej- 
udices had  to  be  overcome,  particular  singers  conciliated,  al- 
terations made,  and  repeated  rehearsals  superintended,  before 
the  composer  could  inspire  the  performers  with  the  right  spirit 
.of  his  composition.  "  Braham,"  said  he,  in  one  of  his  letters 
to  his  wife  (March  29, 182G),  "begs  for  a  grand  scena  instead 
of  his  first  air,  which,  in  fact,  was  not  written  for  him,  and 
which  is  rather  high.  The  thought  of  it  was  at  first  quite 
horrible ;  I  would  not  hear  of  it.  At  last  I  ju-omised,  when 
the  opera  was  completed,  if  I  had  time  enough,  it  should  be 
done ;  and  now  this  grand  scena,  a  confounded  battle-piece 
and  what  not,  is  lying  before  me,  and  I  am  about  to  set  to 
work,  yet  with  the  greatest  reluctance.  What  can  I  do? 
Braham  knows  his  public,  and  is  idolized  by  them.  But  for 
Germany  I  shall  keep  tlie  opera  as  it  is.     I  hate  the  air  I  am 


282  QUEENS    OF   SONG. 

going  to  compose  (to-day  I  hope)  by  anticipation.    Adieu, 
and  now  for  the  battle." 

At  rehearsal  one  of  the  performers  was  singing  in  the  fash- 
ionable style,  when  Weber,  looking  attentively  at  him,  said, 
"  I  am  very  sorry  you  take  so  much  trouble."  "  Oh !  not  at 
all!"  was  the  careless  rejDly.  "Yes,"  he  added,  "but  I  say 
yes;  for  why  do  you  take  the  trouble  to  sing  so  many  notes 
that  are  not  in  the  book?"  He  disliked  the  superabundance 
of  florid  ornamentation  which  Catalani,  Braham,  and  other 
eminent  singers  had  brought  into  fashion;  and  he  discounte- 
nanced as  far  as  possible  the  habit  many  singers  had  of  slur- 
ring over  the  verses.  In  one  of  the  pieces  in  Oheron,  Miss 
Paton,  with  all  her  taste  and  execution,  was  unable  to  produce 
the  effect,  intended  by  the  comjjoser.  "  I  know  not  how  it  is," 
she  at  last  exclaimed,  "but  I  can  never  do  this  as  it  should  be." 
"  The  reason  is,"  quietly  replied  Weber,  "  because  you  have 
not  studied  the  words." 

Oheron  was  finally  j^roduced  on  the  12th  of  April.  When 
Weber  entered  the  orchestra  the  house  was  filled  to  overflow- 
ing, for  the  exiDcctations  of  the  public  had  been  raised  to  an 
extraordinary  pitch.  The  audience  simultaneously  rose  and 
saluted  him  by  huzzas,  by  waving  of  hats  and  handkerchiefs. 
They  insisted  on  encoring  the  overture,  and  every  air  was  in- 
terrtipted  twice  or  thrice  by  bursts  of  applause. 

To  Reiza  is  allotted  the  most  exquisitely  impassioned  music, 
and  Miss  Paton  surpassed  herself  in  brilliancy  and  sjiirit ;  her 
grand  sceua,  "  Ocean,  thou  mighty  monster,"  was  given  with 
surprising  energy,  and  in  her  most  finished  manner,  and  re- 
ceived with  rapturous  delight.  The  chivalrous  character  of 
Sir  Huon  was  assigned  to  Braham,  who  sang  with  powerful 
efiect.  The  beautiful,  talented  Madame  Vestris  was  charm-- 
ingly  arch  and  vivacious  as  Fatima;  her  laughter  at  hearing 
the  enchanted  horn  in  the  last  scene  was  so  hearty  and  natu- 
ral that  the  whole  house  was  infected  with  her  merriment,  and 
echoed  it  with  peals  of  laughter.  The  scenery,  dresses,  and 
decorations  were  unusually  splendid,  and  the  scene  in  the  sec- 
ond act,  representing  the  reflection  of  the  setting  sun  in  the 
sea,  surpassed  every  thing  of  the  kind  seen  before. 

On  the  conclusion  of  the  opera  Weber  was  loudly  called  for, 
but  it  was  with  the  greatest  difiiculty  that  he  could  be  induced 
to  make  his  appearance  at  the  side-scenes.    He  was  too  mod- 


MAEY  ANNE  PATON.  283 

est  to  become  the  "  lion"  of  musical  parties,  and  consequently 
at  his  benefit  concert  the  room  was  not  half  filled,  "  while  on 
the  same  evening  the  concert  of  a  favorite  Italian  singer,  at 
the  house  of  one  of  the  nobility,  was  attended  by  four  hundred 
fashionables,  who  paid  a  guinea  apiece  for  their  tickets."  Just 
two  months  after  the  production  of  Oheron,  Weber  was  found 
dead  in  his  bed,  in  his  room  at  the  house  of  Sir  George  Smart. 
His  head  was  resting  on  his  hand  as  calmly  as  if  in  sleep. 
Ever  since  his  arrival  in  England  he  had  been  in  a  declining 
and  precarious  state  of  health,  and  suflering  from  many  anxi- 
eties. 

At  the  Philharmonic  Concerts  in  August,  Miss  Paton  exe- 
cuted a  most  difficult  song  from  Spohr's  Faust,  which  was  sent 
to  her,  it  was  said,  only  the  day  before  the  rehearsal.  She 
sang  it  to  perfection.  No  other  vocalist  in  London  probably 
would  have  undertaken  so  hazardous  a  task,  and  her  success 
displayed  her  science  as  a  musician,  and  her  extreme  aptitude. 
"  Miss  Paton,"  it  was  agreed,  "  has  indeed  made  a  vast  im- 
provement this  season,  and,  taking  into  accoimt  her  various 
abilities,  she  is  perhaps  unrivaled."  It  was  to  be  regretted 
that  she  devoted  her  attention  to  such  miserable  trash  as  she 
sang  on  the  stage,  and  scattered  her  energies  upon  trifles  of 
the  moment,  in  lieu  of  giving  her  study  to  works  of  an  elevated 
character;  but  her  facility  enabled  her  to  shine  in  a  great  va- 
riety of  styles.  *'  Taken  in  all  styles,  taken  as  a  musician.  Miss 
Paton  is  beyond  all  question  the  cleverest  female  singer  we 
have;  but  there  is  not  one  song,  properly  so  called,  in  Avhich 
some  one  or  other  does  not  excel  her.  In  a  ballad,  the  finish, 
equality,  and  beauty  of  Miss  Stei^hens's  voicing,  her  delicacy 
and  truth,  place  her  infinitely  above  Miss  Paton.  In  execution, 
Mrs.  Salmon  distances  her  not  less.  From  mere  distraction 
of  pursuits,  she  has  never  attained  the  gusto  of  the  Italian 
manner ;  and  in  the  church  Miss  Travis  or  any  of  the  others 
exceed  her.  Yet,  if  the  trial  were  to  depend  upon  diversity 
of  talent,  Miss  Paton  would  outshine  them  all,  without  equal- 
ing, in  their  own  province,  any  of  them." 

This  year  (1826)  she  was  acknowledged  and  received  as  the 
lady  of  Lord  William  Lennox ;  but  the  union  had  proved  a 
most  unfortunate  one.  After  her  marriage  the  unhappy  Avife's 
health  became  so  impaired  that  even  when  the  curtain  rose  to 
crowded  audiences  the  public  were  never  certain  that  they 


284  QUEENS   OF   SONG. 

might  not  be  met  by  a  medical  certificate  of  Miss  Patou's 
"  total  incapacity  to  play  that  evening." 

At  the  festivals  of  Salisbury  and  York,  in  1828,  the  princi- 
pal singers  were  Mesdames  Catalan!,  Caradori,  Miss  Stephens, 
Mrs.  W.  Kny vett,  and  Miss  Paton,  with  Braham,  PhiUips,  De 
Begnis,  and  others.  Catalani  failed,  Miss  Paton  as  evidently 
rose  in  the  general  estimation,  while  Miss  Stephens  and  Ma- 
dame Caradori  simply  preserved  the  place  they  had  already 
gained.  "  It,  perhaps,  may  with  truth  be  said,"  says  an  au- 
thority of  the  period,  "  that  since  the  days  of  Mara  no  one  has 
apj)eared  equal  to  sustain  the  majesty  of  such  a  song  as  'I 
know  that  my  Redeemer  liveth.'  Miss  Paton  certainly  threw 
both  energy  and  pathos  into  her  singing,  but  still  it  partakes 
far  more  of  the  beautiful  than  the  sublime  of  expression.  The 
truth  is,  that  the  mind  must  possess  a  vigor  and  solidity  which 
rarely  consists  with  the  diversity  of  pursuits  incidental  to  a 
modern  professional  life ;  and  perhaps  it  requires  those  severe 
studies  and  trains  of  thought  which  lead  to  the  j^roduction  of 
a  composer  in  the  great  ecclesiastical  style." 

An  estrangement  from  her  husband,  followed  by  a  divorce, 
terminated  her  unlucky  marriage.  For  her  second  husband 
Miss  Paton  selected  Mr.  Wood,  a  kind-hearted  young  vocalist, 
who  had  lately  ajipeared  on  the  Coveut  Garden  boards.  He 
was  a  fine  and  rather  good-looking  man,  with  a  very  sweet  and 
agreeable  voice,  and,  in  some  characters,  was  a  pretty  good 
actor.  Mrs.  Wood  gradually  recovered  her  health,  which  as 
Lady  William  Lennox  she  had  lost,  and  the  cheerfulness  and 
gayety  of  early  days  returned. 

Her  first  aj^pearance  in  public  after  her  marriage  with  Mr. 
Wood  was  on  February  24, 1829,  at  Covent  Garden,  as  Reiza, 
in  Weber's  Oheron.  Ill  health  had  been  assigned  as  the  cause 
of  her  long  absence  from  the  stage  ;  and  when  she  first  became 
visible  to  the  audience  through  the  mist  which  envelops  the 
figure  of  Reiza  on  her  appearance  to  Sir  Huon,  she  was  greet- 
ed by  enthusiastic  applause,  which  lasted  several  minutes,  and 
on  coming  forward  the  ovation  was  renewed  with  equal  vigor, 
and  protracted  to  undue  length.  Her  powers  were  found  to 
be  unimpaired,  and  were  never  more  brilliantly  displayed.  Mr. 
Wood  appeared  as  Sir  Huon  for  the  first  time,  and  his  vocal 
and  dramatic  efibrts  were  sjDirited  and  energetic. 

Mrs.  Wood  was  engaged  at  the  King's  Theatre  in  1831,  be- 


'MARY   ANNE  PATON.  285 

ing  the  first  Englishwoman  after  CeciUa  Davies  who  "  achieved 
that  distinction  without  a  certificate  of  character  from  Italy." 
Her  debut  took  place  on  the  5th  of  April,  in  the  opera  ofia 
Cenerentola.  In  so  fine  a  house  for  sound  as  the  King's  The- 
tre,  her  full  rich  voice  was  heard  to  great  advantage.  Her 
enunciation  of  Italian  was  admirable,  and  her  correct  intona- 
tion and  knowledge  of  music  were  fully  ajipreciated  by  the 
critical  audience.  On  the  iVth,  Pacini's  absurd  opera,  L'' Ul- 
timo Giorno  di  Pompeii^  was  produced  for  the  benefit  of  Sig- 
nor  Davide.  Many  persons  did  not  much  relish  Davide's  style. 
It  Avas  well  said  that "  he  sang  too  much  in  italics  f^  and  he 
was  characterized  as  a  singer  who  "  united  the  extravagancies 
with  the  beauties  of  genius." 

From  the  King's  Theatre  Mrs.  Wood  went  to  Drury  Lane, 
where  she  appeared  in  the  Darber  of  Seville.  Her  singing 
was  exquisite :  the  lesson  song  at  the  piano-forte  in  particular 
was  given  v.ith  extraordinary  power  and  effect.  Mr.  Wood 
was  only  passable  as  Almaviva,  and  Henry  Phillips,  though  he 
sang  the  music  of  Figaro  with  great  beauty  and  science,  was 
deficient  in  mercurial  vivacity.  An  English  version  of  liobert 
le  Diahle  was  produced  at  Drury  Lane  on  the  20th  of  Febru- 
ary, 1832.  The  cast  was  a  pretty  good  one:  Robert,  Mr. 
Wood ;  Bertram,  II.  Phillips ;  Raimbaut,  Templeton ;  Isabel, 
Miss  Ayton ;  Alice,  Mrs.  Wood.  The  following  night,  a  rival 
adaptation  was  brought  out  at  Covent  Garden,  under  the  title 
of  the  Fiend  Father. 

Tempting  oflfers  induced  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Wood  to  cross  the 
Atlantic  in  1840.  They  appeared  first  at  the  Park  Theatre, 
New  York,  and  were  greatly  liked  in  America.  A  ludicrous 
incident  marked  their  stay  at  Philadelphia.  There  was  a  shab- 
by couple  who  desired  to  have  the  edat  of  engaging  the  cele- 
brated English  prima  donna  to  sing  at  one  of  their  parties, 
and  sent  her  an  invitation.  Being  indisposed,  Mrs.  Wood  de- 
clined, but  they  so  urgently  pressed  her  that  she  consented  to 
join  the  party.  When  the  entertainments  of  the  evening  had 
fairly  commenced,  and  several  ladies  among  the  visitors  had 
sung,  the  hostess  invited  Mrs.  Wood  to  seat  herself  at  the 
piano,  as  the  company  would  be  deligtted  to  hear  her  beauti- 
ful voice ;  but  Mrs.  Wood,  with  a  very  serious  countenance, 
begged  to  be  excused.  At  first  the  astonishment  created  by 
this  refusal  was  evinced  by  a  dead  silence  and  a  fixed  stare ; 


286  QUEENS    OF   SONG.  ** 

but  at  length  the  disappointed  hostess  burst  out,  saying, 
"  What !  not  sing,  Mrs.  Wood  !  M'hy,  it  was  for  this  that  I  in- 
vited you  to  my  party,  and  I  told  all  my  guests  that  you  were 
coming."  "That  quite  alters  the  case,"  said  Mrs. Wood ;  "I 
was  not  at  all  aware  of  this,  or  I  should  not  have  refused ;  but 
since  you  have  invited  me  professionally,  I  shall  of  course  sing 
immediately."  "  What  a  good  creature !"  rejoined  the  hostess ; 
"  I  thought  you  could  not  persist  in  refusing  me."  So  Mrs. 
Wood  sang  the  entire  evening,  giving  every  song  she  was  ask- 
ed for,  and  being  encored  several  times.  In  the  morning,  to 
the  utter  consternation  of  the  rich,  parsimonious  couple,  a  bill 
for  $200  was  presented  to  them  from  Mr.  Wood  for  his  wife's 
professional  services,  which  of  course  they  had  to  pay. 

On  their  return,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Wood  judiciously  invested 
their  earnings  in  the  purchase  of  an  estate  in  Yorkshire,  in- 
tending to  retire  and  enjoy  the  ease  and  quiet  which  they  had 
fairly  won.  But  either  a  life  of  excitement  had  destroyed  Mrs. 
Wood's  taste  for  retirement,  or  the  oflers  Avhich  she  received 
from  managers  were  too  seducing ;  for  when,  in  1836,  Rossini's 
Cenerentola  was  brought  out  at  Covent  Garden,  April  13,  un- 
der the  title  of  Cinderella^  the  Fairy  Queen  and  the  Little 
Glass  ^lipper^  Mrs.  Wood  performed  Cinderella,  playing  the 
part  with  extreme  simplicity,  and  singing  with  irreproachable 
taste.  The  music  had  been  adapted  by  Mr.  Lacy,  who  made 
liberal  additions  from  the  other  works  of  Rossini. 

Mrs.  Wood  afterward  appeared  with  Malibran,  in  the  Mar- 
riage of  Figaro^  for  the  benefit  of  Charles  Kemble ;  and  in 
1837  she  sang  at  Drury  Lane  in  the  So)inamhula,  etc. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Wood  again  retired  to  their  Yorkshire  home, 
where  a  new  whim  suddenly  seized  the  lady,  who  had  always 
been  rather  eccentric.  She  resolved  to  change  her  creed,  turn 
Catholic,  and  become  a  nun ;  and  in  February,  1 843,  she  with- 
drew to  the  convent  at  Micklegate  Bar,  Yorkshire.  Her  hus- 
band, uniformly  kind  and  indulgent,  was  convinced  that  her 
ascetic  fancy  would  soon  die  away,  and  as  she  took  no  irre- 
vocable vow  to  lead  a  monastic  life,  but  was  only  a  probation- 
er, he  "U'as  content  to  await  her  return.  Some  malicious  per- 
sons having  spread  a  Humor  that  he  had,  by  his  ill  treatment, 
driven  her  to  adopt  this  course,  she  published  a  letter  exculpa- 
ting her  husband. 

Finding  she  had  no  vocation  for  conventual  life,  Mrs.  Wood 


MAKY  ANNE   PATON.  287 

quitted  the  convent,  July,  1843,  and  returned  to  her  home. 
Shortly  afterward  she,  with  her  husband,  accepted  a  profes- 
sional engagement,  and  appeared  first  at  Leeds,  where  Mrs. 
Wood  sang  and  played  on  the  organ.  In  1844  she  was  sing- 
ing in  opera  at  the  Princess's  Theatre. 

Mrs.  Wood  continues  to  live  in  the  neighborhood  of  Leeds, 
in  great  peace  and  comfort,  varying  her  occupations  by  taking 
a  few  pupils,  some  of  whom  have  gained  distinction. 


288  QUEENS    OF    SONG. 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

WILHELMIKA   SCHEODER   DEVKIENT. 

Sophia  Schroder  was  the  Sicldons  of  Germany.  Her  pro- 
found sensibility  and  fine  perception  of  character,  and  her 
splendid  elocution,  combined  with  a  majestic  form,  rendered 
her  one  of  the  finest  tragic  actresses  of  her  time.  She  was  for 
years  the  ornament  of  the  dramatic  stage  of  Germany,  where 
she  made  herself  celebrated  in  the  parts  of  Phedre,  Medea, 
Lady  Macbeth,  Merope,  Sapho,  Jeanne  de  Montfaucon,  and  Is- 
abella in  the  JBraut  von  Ifessina. 

Wilhelmina,  the  daughter  of  Madame  Schroder,  was  born  at 
Hamburg,  October  6th,  1805.  Her  mother  destined  her  for 
the  stage,  for  which  she  was  educated,  and  in  her  fifth  year 
the  child  appeared  on  the  Hamburg  stage  as  a  little  Cupid, 
and  in  her  tenth  danced  in  the  ballet  at  the  Imperial  Theatre 
of  Vienna.  However,  she  did  not  long  remain  in  the  ballet ; 
for  with  the  development  of  her  powers  came  ambition,  and, 
what  is  more  important,  skill  and  experience.  Her  mother, 
who  wished  her  to  perform  in  tragedy,  obtained  for  her  an  ap- 
pearance at  the  Burgtheater  of  Vienna,  where  she  appeared, 
in  her  fifteenth  year,  in  the  part  of  Aricie.  in  the  PMclre  of 
Racine.  She  then  performed  the  character  of  Luise  in  Cahale 
undLiehe,  and  soon  rose  to  be  the  representative  of  high  trag- 
edy, appearing  as  Ophelia  in  Hamlet,  Beatrice  in  the  Braut  von 
Messina.,  and  other  leading  parts. 

The  full  scope  of  her  genius,  however,  was  not  yet  apparent. 
She  then  knew  nothing  of  music ;  but  at  last  she  was  able  to 
study  under  the  direction  of  an  Italian  master,  named  Mazzatti, 
who  resided  in  Vienna. 

She  made  her  debut  in  opera,  January  20, 1821,  as  Pamina 
in  Mozart's  Zauherflote  at  the  Vienna  Theatre.  The  beauty 
of  her  voice,  her  imposing  figure  and  dejDortment,  and  her 
power  of  expressing  emotion,  produced  a  favorable  impres- 
sion. In  stature  she  was  above  the  middle  height,  and  her 
figure  was  fully  developed ;  though  not  handsome,  but  rather 


WILHELMINA   SCHEODER   DEVKIENT.  289 

the  reverse,  her  countenance  had  a  sweet,  noble,  frank  expres- 
sion ;  and  when  excited  by  the  ardor  of  feeling,  her  physiog- 
nomy was  full  of  fire  and  passion.  Her  voice  was  a  mellow 
soprano,  which  had  the  true  metallic  ring,  and  united  softness 
with  power  and  compass,  though  it  was  deficient  in  flexibility. 
Her  intonation  was  remarkably  perfect,  her  articulation  singu- 
larly distinct,  and  her  accentuation  impressive. 

She  speedily  became  a  favorite,  but  her  triumph  was  achieved 
by  her  performance  of  Leonora  in  the  Fidelio  of  Beethoven, 
in  which  she  eclipsed  all  who  had  preceded  her.  This  oj^era 
was  represented  for  the  festival  of  the  emperor's  birthday,  and 
the  young  debutante  drew  down  thunders  of  applause.  The 
character  itself  excites  the  deepest  sympathy,  and  there  are 
some  most  pathetic  situations  in  the  scenes  where  Leonora  ap- 
pears. Schroder's  performance  throughout  was  thrilling,  but 
in  the  scene  where  Leonora  enters  the  dungeon,  her  delinea- 
tion of  the  agonizing  emotions  Avhich  rend  the  heart  of  the 
wife  was  perfectly  electrifying.  She  had  studied  this  charac- 
ter profoundly.  Her  account  of  her  first  ijerformance  is  very 
interesting. 

"  When  I  was  studying  the  character  of  Fidelio  at  Vienna," 
she  herself  says, "  I  could  not  attain  that  which  appeared  to 
me  to  be  the  desired  and  natural  expression  at  the  moment 
when  Leonora,  throwing  herself  before  her  husband,  holds  out 
a  pistol  to  the  governor,  with  the  words  'Kill  first  his  wife!' 
I  studied  and  studied  in  vain,  though  I  did  all  I  could  to  place 
myself  mentally  in  the  situation  of  Leonora.  I  had  jiictured 
to  myself  the  situation,  but  I  felt  that  it  was  incomplete,  with- 
out knoAving  why  or  wherefore.  Well,  the  evening  arrived  ; 
the  audience  knows  not  with  what  feelings  an  artiste,  who  en- 
ters seriously  into  a  part,  dresses  for  the  representation.  Tiie 
nearer  the  moment  approached,  the  greater  was  my  alarm. 
When  it  did  arrive,  and  as  I  ought  to  have  sung  the  ominous 
words,  and  pointed  the  pistol  at  the  governor,  I  fell  into  such 
utter  tremor  at  the  thought  of  not  being  perfect  in  my  charac- 
ter, that  my  whole  frame  trembled,  and  I  thought  I  should 
have  fallen.  Now  only  fancy  how  I  felt  when  the  whole  house 
broke  forth  into  enthusiastic  shouts  of  applause,  and  what  1 
thought  when,  after  the  curtain  fell,  I  was  told  that  this  mo- 
ment was  the  most  cflective  and  powerful  of  my  whole  repre- 
sentation. So  that  which  I  could  not  attain  with  every  eftbrt 
19  N 


290  QTJEE2sS   OP   SONG. 

of  mind  and  imagination,  was  produced  at  this  decisive  mo- 
ment by  my  miaflected  terror  and  anxiety.  This  result,  and 
the  effect  it  had  upon  the  public,  taught  me  how  to  seize  and 
comi^rehend  the  incident,  so  that  which  at  the  first  reiDresenta; 
tion  I  had  hit  upon  unconsciously,  I  adopted  in  fuU  conscious- 
ness ever  afterward  in  this  part." 

Not  even  Malibran  could  equal  her  in  the  impersonation  of 
this  character.  Never  was  dramatic  performance  more  com- 
pletely, more  intensely  affecting,  more  deeply  pathetic,  truth- 
ful, tender,  and  powerful. 

Some  persons  regarded  her  as  more  of  a  tragedian  than  a 
singer.  "Her  voice,  since  I  have  known  it,"  observes  Mr. 
Chorley  {3Iodern  German  ITusic),  "  was  capable  of  convey- 
ing poignant  or  tender  expression,  but  it  was  harsh  and  torn 
— ^not  so  inflexible  as  incorrect.  Madame  Schroder  Devrient 
resolved  to  be  par  excellence  'the  German  dramatic  singer.' 
Earnest  and  intense  as  was  her  assumption  of  the  parts  she 
attempted,  her  desire  of  presenting  herself  first  was  little  less 
vehement :  there  is  no  possibility  of  an  oi:)era  being  performed 
by  a  company,  each  of  whom  should  be  as  resolute  as  she  was 
never  to  rest,  never  for  an  instant  to  allow  the  spectator  to 
forget  his  presence.  She  cared  not  whether  she  broke  the 
flow  of  the  comj)osition  by  some  cry  heard  on  any  note  or  in 
any  scale — by  even  speaking  some  word,  for  which  she  would 
not  trouble  herself  to  study  a  right  musical  emphasis  or  in- 
flexion— provided,  only,  she  succeeded  in  continuing  to  arrest 
the  attention.  Hence,  in  part,  arose  her  extraordinary  success 
in  Fldelio.  That  opera  contains,  virtually,  only  one  acting- 
character,  and  with  her  it  rests  to  intimate  the  thrilling  secret 
of  the  whole  story,  to  develop  this  link  by  link,  in  presence  of 
the  public,  and  to  give  the  drama  the  importance  of  terror, 
suspense,  and  rapture.  When  the  spell  is  broken  by  exhibit- 
ing the  agony  and  the  struggle  of  which  she  is  the  innocent 
victim,  if  the  devotion,  the  disguise,  and  the  hope  of  Leonora, 
the  wife,  were  not  forever  before  us,  the  interest  of  the  prison- 
opera  would  flag  and  wane  into  a  cheerless  and  incurable 
melancholy.  This  Madame  Schroder  Devrient  took  care  that 
it  should  never  do.  From  her  first  entry  upon  the  stage,  it 
might  be  seen  that  there  was  a  purpose  at  her  heart,  which 
could  make  the  weak  strong  and  the  timid  brave ;  quickening 
every  sense,  nerving  every  fibre,  arming  its  possessor  with  dis- 


WILnELillNA   SCHRODEE   DEVEIEXT.  291 

guise  against  curiosity,  M'itli  persuasion  more  powerful  tlian 
any  obstacle,  with  expedients  equal  to  every  emergency.  ,  . 
What  Pasta  would  be  in  spite  of  her  uneven,  rebellious,  un- 
certain voice — a  most  magnificent  singer — Madame  Schroder 
Devrient  did  not  care  to  be,  though  Nature,  I  have  been  as- 
sured by  those  who  heard  her  sing  when  a  girl,  had  blessed 
her  with  a  fresh,  delicious  soprano  voice." 

Her  fame  increasing,  the  Fraulein  Schroder  resolved  to  un- 
dertake an  art-tour  in  Germany.  Early  in  1823  she  appeared 
at  Cassel,  producing  a  great  sensation  in  Emraeline,  Pamina, 
and  Agathe.  Seldom  had  any  performer  achieved  such  a  pop- 
ularity. From  thence  she  went  to  Dresden,  where  slie  met 
with  Carl  Devrient,  a  clever  vocalist  from  Berlin,  with  an 
agreeable  voice,  youthful  and  fresh.  He  was  a  favorite  with 
the  public,  and  as  a  tragedian  he  disputed  the  histrionic  crown 
with  Herr  Seydelmann  of  Stuttgart.  The  Dem.  Schroder  was 
very  much  charmed  with  this  young  singer,  who  reciprocated 
the  sentiment,  and  they  were  married ;  but  the  imion  did  not 
prove  a  happy  one. 

For  some  time  Madame  Schroder  Devrient  remained  at 
Dresden.  Her  most  noticeable  performance  in  1824  was 
Euryanthe,  with  Madame  Funk,  Herr  Bergmann,  and  Herr 
Meyer.  For  a  short  time  she  was  at  Munich,  but  returned 
again  to  Dresden.  In  1825  the  chief  operas  there  were 
Cherubini's  Faniska^  Spohr's  Jessonda  (in  which  she  sang 
with  Mdlle.  Voltheim,  Bergmann,  and  Meyer),  and  the  Barhcr 
of  Seville,  in  which  Bergmann  performed  Almaviva,  and  Kel- 
ler, Bartolo.  She  was  still  performing  there  in  1826  and  1827. 
In  1828  she  went  to  Prague,  and  thence  to  Berlin,  where  her 
marriage  was  dissolved  judicially.  She  had  one  boy,  born  in 
1824.  At  Berlin  she  appeared  at  both  theatres  in  the  chefs- 
d'ceuvre  of  Weber  with  the  utmost  success.  Spontini  at  first 
conceived  against  her  a  violent  antipathy;  but  this  did  not 
prevent  her  from  obtaining  the  most  astonishing  success,  es- 
pecially in  the  part  of  Euryanthe.  She  then  went  to  Vienna, 
where  she  performed  with  Cramolini  and  Madame  Griinbamn. 

A  troup  of  Gei-mau  singers,  headed  by  Madame  Fischer,  a 
pretty,  tall  blonde,  with  a  fresh  voice,  went  to  Paris  in  1830. 
Madame  Schroder  Devrient  formed  one  of  this  company,  and 
made  her  debut  in  May  at  the  Theatre  Louvois  (then  under 
the  direction  of  Rockel),  in  Der  Freischutz.     She  was  terribly 


292  QUEENS    OF   SONG. 

agitated,  but  the  encouragement  which  she  received  reassured 
her.  The  critics  were  delighted  with  the  beauty  and  iinish 
of  her  style.  Madame  Roland,  Woltereck,  and  Wieser  sang 
with  her  in  Der  Freischiltz.  She  repeated  the  principal  parts 
of  her  rei^ertoire  in  FkJelio,  Don  Giovanni^  etc.,  and  also  ap- 
peared, with  Haitzinger,  Wieser,  and  Madame  Schmidt,  in 
Weber's  Oheron,  and  in  the  Serail  of  Mozart.  Her  success 
was  particularly  marked  in  Fidelio. 

Returning  to  Germany,  Madame  Schroder  Devrient  aj^pear- 
ed  next  in  Berlin  with  triumph,  together  with  Scheckner  and 
Sontag.  In  1832  she  was  again  in  Paris,  fulfilling  an  engage- 
ment of  a  year,  when  she  imprudently  accepted  a  i^roposition 
made  to  her  by  the  manager  of  the  Theatre  Italien  to  sing  in 
a  language  and  in  the  style  of  a  school  for  which  she  had  not 
the  necessary  qualifications.  The  theatre  opened  September 
1,  with  a  splendid  company:  Pasta,  Malibran,  Schroder  Dev- 
rient, Rubini,  Bordogni,  and  Lablache.  The  illness  of  Madame 
Pasta  rendered  it  necessary  for  Schroder  to  appear  in  Anna 
Bolena^  in  which  she  failed  completely.  Bellini's  Pirata  was 
afterward  brought  out  with  a  decided  success,  to  which  the 
singing  and  acting  of  Madame  Devrient  and  Rubini  powerful- 
ly contributed.  Madame  Devrient  performed  the  part  of  the 
heroine  with  great  taste  and  expression,  improving  as  she  be- 
came more  familiar  with  the  usages  of  the  Italian  stage.  On 
the  22d  of  November  she  performed  Desdemona  for  Malibran's 
benefit,  Rubini  being  the  Moor.  Madame  Devrient  had  cer- 
tainly moments  of  inspiration  in  this  performance,  but  she  was 
not  Desdemona. 

In  1832  Mr.  Mouck  Mason  became  lessee  of  the  King's  The- 
atre, at  a  rent  of  £16,000.  He  had  already  dabbled  a  little  in 
theatrical  affairs,  having  written  and  composed  a  small  opera, 
and  was  quite  a  musical  enthusiast.  His  plans  and  projected 
improvements  were  of  the  most  novel  character,  and  on  the 
most  extensive  scale,  for  he  engaged  an  excellent  company, 
not  only  of  Italian,  but  of  French  and  German  singers.  Among 
the  latter  he  brought  forward  Schroder  Devrient,  who  appear- 
ed in  her  favorite  operas  with  Mdlle.  Schneider  and  Herr 
Haitzinger;  the  latter  a  tenor,  who  sang  Avith  great  feeling, 
but  sometimes  too  vehemently.  Madame  Devrient  also  per- 
formed in  Italian  opera,  appearing  as  Desdemona  in  Otello, 
July  17.     On  this  occasion  Roderigo's  serenade  was  sung  by 


! 


WILHELMINA   SCHRODER   DEVRIENT.  293 

Donzelli,  Avho  was  the  Otello.  The  English  pubUc  did  not 
care  much  about  the  German  cantatrice,  but  the  critics  were 
delighted  with  her  genius.  "  We  know  not,"  said  one,  "  how 
to  say  enough  of  Madame  Schroder  Devrient,  without  appear- 
ing extravagant,  and  yet  the  most  extravagant  eulogy  we 
couldtoen  would  not  come  up  to  our  idea  of  her  excellence. 
She  np  woman  of  first-rate  genius;  her  acting  skillful,  various, 
impassioned;  her  singing  pui'e,  scientific,  and  enthusiastic. 
Her  whole  soul  is  rapt  in  her  subject,  yet  she  never  for  a  mo- 
ment oversteps  the  modesty  of  nature,"  This  season  was  a 
most  disastrous  one  to  the  unfortunate  Mr.  Monck  Mason,  who 
not  only  sacrificed  his  money  and  his  energies,  but  was  most 
unjustly  attacked  and  lampooned. 

The  following  year  Mr.  Bunn  engaged  Madame  Schroder 
Devrient  to  perform  on  alternate  nights  with  Malibran,  the 
company  being  abruptly  transferred  from  Drury  Lane  to  Cov- 
ent  Garden.  The  first  piece  in  Avhich  the  Germans  performed 
was  Mozart's  Zauherfldte,  produced  for  the  first  time  on  the 
English  stage.  Haitzinger,  Dobler — a  fine,  deep  musical  bass 
— and  Madame  Uetz — a  very  excellent  actress,  and  a  singer 
of  great  merit  —  supported  the  chief  parts  Avith  Madame 
Schroder  Devrient ;  but  it  was  not  a  success.  Weber's  Eury- 
anthe  was  also  brought  forward,  for  the  first  time  in  England, 
and  of  course  Madame  Schroder  Devrient  performed  in  Fkle- 
lio. 

In  January,  1S34,  she  was  engaged  at  Berlin,  whei'e  she  was 
to  sing  in  twelve  operas  by  native  composers :  Fidelio,  Don 
Giovanni,  Euryanthe,  Oberon,  and  others.  From  thence  she 
went  to  Vienna  and  to  Russiti.  In  March,  1835,  she  was  at 
Dresden  ;  by  May,  in  Leipzig;  then  returning  to  Dresden,  she 
obtained  a  conge  of  eighteen  months  to  go  to  Italy,  where  she 
was  welcomed  with  great  enthusiasm.  She  paused  at  Bres- 
lau,  giving  in  that  town  some  representations  which  threw  the 
public  into  a  frenzy  of  rapture,  according  to  the  journals  of 
the  time.  They  conducted  her  in  triumph  to  her  dwelling, 
where  the  orchestra  of  the  theatre  had  jircpared  a  serenade 
for  her.  She  was  in  Vienna  in  1836  with  Madame  Tadolini, 
Genaro,  and  Galli,  singing  in  EElisir  cV Amove,  etc. 

The  managers  of  Drury  Lane  applied  to  her  in  1837  to  sup- 
ply the  place  of  Madame  de  Beriot,  and  the  people  of  Dresden 
— where  she  was  performing  when  she  entered  into  the  en- 


294  QUEENS    OF   SONG. 

gagement — gave  her  a  flattering  ovation  before  her  departure. 
She  personated  the  character  of  Euryanthe,  and  when  the  en- 
thusiasm was  at  its  height,  Mdlle.  Wust  approached  in  her 
character  of  Eglantine,  and  presented  a  beautiful  chaplet  of 
flowers  to  the  heroine  of  German  song,  reciting  at  the  same 
time  a  complimentary  address.  ^ 

Madame  Schroder  Devrieut  played  in  Fidelio.,  for  vSs>  first 
time  in  English,  May  14th.  The  whole  performance  was  la- 
mentably inferior  to  that  at  the  Opera  House  in  1832.  Norma 
was  produced  June  25th,  Schroder  Devrient  being  seconded 
by  Wilson,  Giubilei,  and  Miss  Betts.  She  was  either  very  ill 
advised  or  overconfident,  for  her  "massy"  style  of  singing  was 
totally  at  variance  with  the  light  beauty  of  Bellini's  music. 
Her  conception  of  the  character,  however,  was  in  the  grandest 
style  of  histrionic  art.  "  The  sibyls  of  Michael  Angelo  are  not 
more  grand,"  exclaimed  one  critic;  "but  the  vocalization  of 
Pasta  and  Grisi  is  wholly  foreign  to  her,"  During  this  en- 
gagement Madame  Schruder  Devrient  was  often  unable  to 
perform  from  serious  illness.  She  took  her  benefit  July  Vth, 
when  La  Sonnambtda  was  performed;  and  Tuesday  the  16th, 
the  theatre  closed  with  Fidelio. 

From  England  she  went  to  the  Lower  Rhine,  In  1839  she 
was  at  Dresden  with  Herr  Tichatschek,  one  of  the  first  tenors 
of  Germany,  a  handsome  man,  with  a  powerful,  sweet,  and  ex- 
tensive voice.  In  June,  1841,  she  gave  a  performance  at  Ber- 
lin, to  assist  the  Parisian  subscription  for  a  monument  to  Cher- 
ubini.  The  opera  was  Les  Deux  Journees,  in  which  she  took 
her  favorite  part  of  Constance.  The  same  year  she  sang  at 
Dresden,  with  the  utmost  success,  in  a  new  role  in  Goethe's 
Tasso,  in  which  she  was  said  to  surpass  her  Fidelio.  She 
then  went  to  LeijDzig,  and  early  the  next  year  returned  to 
Dresden, 

For  some  years  Madame  Schroder  Devrient  resided  in  per- 
fect seclusion  in  the  little  town  of  Rochlitz,  in  Saxony,  She 
was  almost  forgotten,  when  suddenly  she  reappeared  on  the 
stage  at  Dresden  as  Romeo,  in  Bellini's  I Montecchi  ed  i  Cap- 
xdetti.  Although  not  so  great  a  singer  as  in  the  days  when 
she  had  been  accustomed  to  carry  away  her  audiences  by  the 
irresistible  power  of  her  i^erformance,  yet  her  success  was  im- 
mense. Shortly  after,  Gliick's  Iphigenie  en  Aulis  was  revived. 
Madame  Schroder  Devrient  performed  Clytemnestra;  Johanna 


WILHELMIXA   SCHKODEE   DEVKIENT.  295 

Wagner,  Iphigenie ;  Mitterwurzer,  Agamemnon ;  Ticliatschek, 
Achilles. 

She  was  again  at  Dresden  in  1849,  when  she  married  a  rich 
Livonian  proprictaire  named  Bock,  with  whom  she  retired  to 
Livonia.  In  October  her  mother  died  at  Raudnitz,  in  Saxony, 
at  the  advanced  age  of  eighty-four.  The  Emperor  Francis  I. 
paid  Madame  Schroder  an  honor  which  no  other  German  ar- 
tiste ever  received.  He  ordered  her  portrait  to  be  drawn  in 
all  her  principal  characters,  and  placed  in  the  collection  iu  the 
Imperial  Museum. 

About  1854,  Scudo  saw  Madame  Schroder  Devrient  at  Paris 
in  many  exclusive  houses,  and  in  a  public  concert,  "  where  she 
sang  with  a  very  weak  voice  the  melodies  of  Schubert."  She 
was  a  woman  of  intelligence  and  acute  observation ;  as  an  ar- 
tiste, full  of  impetuosity  and  ardor ;  a  lyric  tragedian  perhaps, 
rather  than  a  singer  in  the  ordinary  sense  of  the  word.  She 
might  be  said  to  belong  to  the  group  of  singers  who  were  the 
interpreters  of  that  school  of  dramatic  music  which  arose  in 
Germany  after  the  death  of  Mozart. 

Her  son,  Carl  Devrient,  appeared  in  1857  with  his  father  at 
Hanover,  in  Don  Carlos^  on  the  anniversary  of  the  birthday 
of  Schiller. 

Madame  Schroder  Devrient  died  February  9th,  1860,  at 
Cologne.  The  following  year  her  bust  was  placed  in  the 
Opera  House  at  Berlin. 

The  great  German  artiste,  whose  life  was  much  agitated  by 
a  variety  of  adventures,  left  a  kind  of  journal  wherein  she  re- 
corded her  different  impressions,  and  which  testified  how  much 
she  had  suffered  during  a  career  replete  with  triumphs.  One 
of  the  Leipzig  papers  published  numerous  extracts  from  this 
journal. 


296  QUEENS   OF   SONG. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

HENEIETTA    SONTAG. 

Henrietta  Sontag,  or  Sonntag,  born  May  13,  1805,  at 
Coblentz,  was  a  graceful  and  vivacious  child,  with  a  lovely 
silver-toned  voice,  and  the  darling  of  her  father,  who  was  an 
actor  of  genteel  comedy.  From  her  cradle  she  was  destined 
by  her  parents  for  their  own  profession,  and,  when  six  years 
old,  appeared  for  the  first  time  on  the  stage,  at  the  court  thea- 
tre of  Hesse  Darmstadt,  in  an  opera  entitled  Donau  Weibchen 
(the  Daiighter  of  the  Danube).  Her  infantine  prettiness,  her 
naivete,  her  silver-toned  voice,  and  the  accuracy  of  her  intona- 
tion, made  her  a  pet  at  once.  In  her  eighth  year  her  voice 
had  already  acquired  much  steadiness,  and,  to  gratify  neigh- 
bors and  friends,  Henrietta's  mother  would  place  her  on  the 
table  and  bid  her  sing.  A  distinguished  traveler  relates  hav- 
ing seen  her  sing  in  this  manner  the  grand  aria  of  the  "  Queen 
of  Night,"  in  the  Zauberjlote,  "  her  arms  hanging  beside  her, 
and  her  eye  following  the  flight  of  a  butterfly,  while  her  voice, 
pure,  penetrating,  and  of  angelic  tone,  flowed  as  unconsciously 
as  a  limpid  rill  from  the  mountain  side." 

In  her  ninth  year  Henrietta  lost  her  father,  when  the  wid- 
owed Madame  Sontag  .took  her  daughters  to  Prague,  where 
Henrietta  played  the  parts  of  children  under  the  direction  of 
Weber,  then  chef-d'orchestre  of  the  theatre.  These  early  suc- 
cesses obtained  for  her,  as  a  very  sjDecial  favor,  permission  to 
attend  the  courses  of  the  Conservatoire  of  Prague,  although 
she  had  not  yet  attained  the  prescribed  age — twelve — she  be- 
ing only  eleven.  During  four  years  she  here  studied  vocal 
music,  the  piano-forte,  and  the  elements  of  harmony.  Pixis, 
for  whom  she  always  retained  a  lively  afiection,  taught  her 
the  piano ;  Bayer,  the  celebrated  flutist,  and  Madame  Czezka, 
instructed  her  in  vocalization;  and  the  maitre  de  chapelle, 
Tribensee,  taught  her  the  rudiments  of  music ;  and  she  suc- 
cessively won  the  prize  in  every  class  of  this  great  school  of 
music. 


J 


HENRIETTA   SONTAG. 


299 


A  sudden  indisposition  of  the  prima  donna  gave  Henrietta 
an  unexpected  opportunity  of  appearing  in  the  rather  import- 
ant part  of  the  Princesse  de  Navarre,  in  Boicldieu's  opera  of 
Jean  de  Paris.  She  was  then  only  fifteen,  and  being  very 
small,  the  little  vocalist  was  supplied  with  heels  four  inches 
high ;  so,  when  the  little  prodigy  appeared  on  her  cork  ped- 
estals, the  house  was  filled  with  cheers  and  acclamations;  but 
the  emotion  which  agitated  her  did  not  injure  her  success. 
Her  next  part  was  the  far  more  difiicult  one  of  the  heroine 
in  Paer's  fine  ojDcra,  Sargino.  The  brilliant  success  she  had 
achieved  decided  her  career,  and,  leaving  the  Conservatoire, 
she  went  to  Vienna,  where  she  had  an  oj^portunity  of  hearing 
Madame  Fodor,  who  was  engaged  at  the  theatre  there.  Ad- 
miring the  talents  of  the  French  cantatrice,  Henrietta  endeav- 
ored to  impress  on  her  mind  the  practical  lessons  which  she 
thus  received,  and  which  were  as  profitable  as  all  the  studies 
she  had  j^ursued  in  the  Conservatoire.  The  admiration  was 
reciprocated  by  Madame  Fodor,  who,  on  hearing  the  young 
girl  sing  for  the  first  time,  exclaimed, 

"Had  I  her  voice,  I  should  hold  the  entire  world  at  my 
feet!" 

Singing  alternately  in  German  and  Italian  opera,  with  the 
most  experienced  colleagues,  Rubiui  among  others,  Henrietta 
Sontag  was  perfected  in  the  two  languages,  and  Avas  enabled 
at  the  same  time  to  choose  between  the  brilliancy  of  Italian 
music  and  the  sober  profundity  of  the  German  school.  The 
English  embassador,  Earl  Clanwilliam,  became  one  of  her  most 
ardent  admirers ;  he  followed  her  to  the  theatre,  to  concerts, 
and  even  in  her  walks  to  church.  Sontag,  in  German,  means 
Sunday,  and  the  Viennese  wits  nicknamed  the  embassador  Earl 
Montag,  as  Monday  follows  Sunday. 

In  November,  1823,  Weber  produced  his  Euryanthc,  at  the 
Karnthnerthor  Theater,  Mdlle.  Sontag  taking  the  leading  part ; 
but  the  public  were  so  little  pleased  that  they  called  the  o^e- 
v2iL''Ennayante.  With  the  exception  of  the  chorus  of  hunts- 
men, the  music  was  not  liked. 

Mdlle.  Sontag,  in  1824,  was  engaged  to  sing  in  German  ope- 
ra at  the  theatre  at  Leipzig.  She  gained  great  aj^j^lause  by  the 
manner  in  which  she  interpreted  the  Freischiltz  and  the  Eiiry- 
anthe  of  Weber,  then  almost  in  their  flush  of  novelty.  Her 
young  sister  Nina  performed  at  the  same  time  in  childi'en's 


\ 


300  QUEEXS    OP   SONG. 

characters.  Here  commenced  the  serious  part  of  her  art 
life. 

Henrietta's  voice  was  a  pm-e  soprano,  reaching  perhaps  from 
A  or  B  to  D  in  alt,  and,  though  uniform  in  its  quality,  it  was 
a  little  reedy  in  the  lower  notes,  but  its  flexibility  was  marvel- 
ous :  in  the  high  octave,  from  F  to  C  in  alt,  her  notes  rang 
out  like  the  tones  of  a  silver  bell.    The  clearness  of  her  notes, 
the  precision  of  her  intonation,  the  fertility  of  her  invention, 
and  the  facility  of  her  execution,  were  displayed  in  bi-illiant 
flights  and  lavish  fioriture ;  her  rare  flexibility  being  a  natural 
gift,  cultivated  by  taste  and  incessant  study.     It  Avas  to  the 
example  of  Madame  Fodor  that  Mdlle.  Sontag  was  indebted 
for  the  blooming  of  those  dormant  qualities  which  had  till  then 
remained  undeveloped.     The  ease  with  which  she  sang  was 
perfectly  captivating ;  and  the  neatness  and  elegance  of  her 
enunciation  combined  with  the  sweetness  and  brilliancy  of  her 
voice,  and  her  perfect  intonation,  to  render  her  execution  fault- 
less, and  its  effect  ravishing.     She  appeared  to  sing  with  the 
volubility  of  a  bird,  and  to  experience  the  pleasure  she  impart- 
j     ed.     To  use  the  language  of  a  critic  of  that  day,  "  All  pas- 
sages are  alike  to  her,  but  she  has  aj)propriated  some  that 
were  hitherto  believed  to  belong  to  instruments — to  the  piano- 
^fbrte  and  the  violin,  for  instance.    Arpeggios  and  chromatic 
scales,  passages  ascending  and  descending,  she  executed  in  the 
same  manner  that  the  ablest  performers  on  these  instruments 
execute  them.     There  was  the  firmness  and  the  neatness  that 
/      appertain  to  the  piano-forte,  while  she  would  go  through  a 
/        scale  staccato  with  the  precision  of  the  bow.     Her  great  art, 
/         however,  lay  in  rendering  whatever  she  did  pleasing.     The 
[  ear  was  never  disturbed  by  a  harsh  note.     The  velocity  of  her 

passages  was  sometimes  itncontrollable,  for  it  has  been  ob- 
served that  in  a  division,  say  of  four  groups  of  quadruplets, 
she  would  execute  the  first  in  exact  time,  the  second  and  third 
would  increase  in  rapidity  so  much  that  in  the  fourth  she  was 
compelled  to  decrease  the  speed  perceptibly,  in  order  to  give 
the  band  the  means  of  recovering  the  time  she  had  gained." 

Mdlle.  Sontag  was  of  middle  stature,  neither  full  nor  slen- 
der, with  a  face  expressive  of  delicacy,  sensibility,  and  mod- 
esty united;  she  had  light  hair  (between  blonde  and  auburn), 
fair  complexion,  large  blue  eyes,  softly  penciled  lips,  and  reg- 
ular white  teeth,  and  an  aspect  of  sweetness  and  good  humor ; 


/ 


IIEXEIETTA   SONTAG.  301 

but  her  features  were  by  no  means  striking,  or  capable  of  vi- 
vacious or  tragic  expression.  Her  elegant  form,  the  delicacy 
of  her  features,  the  exquisite  proportion  of  her  hands  and  feet, 
and  her  beautiful  and  soft  expressive  eyes,  completed  the  en- 
chantment exercised  by  this  fair  cantatrice.  She  could  not 
command,  but  she  won  admiration  by  her  easy,  quiet,  and  re- 
served, yet  artless  and  unafiected  lady-like  demeanor.  As  an 
actress,  though  not  great,  she  justly  claimed  applause.  Nei- 
ther in  her  action  nor  in  her  singing  did  she  display  any  grand- 
eur or  depth  of  feeling;  but  while  she  could  not  aspire  to  be 
a  tender  and  impassioned  Leonora,  a  thrilling  Medea,  she  was 
a  captivating  Rosina,  a  bewitching  Susanna,  In  light  and  ele- 
gant comedy,  whether  as  actress  or  singer,  she  has  rarely  been 
excelled.  She  possessed  all  the  originality  of  her  own  nation, 
while  emulating  the  flexibility  of  the  Italians.  With  equal 
skill  she  could  render  the  Avorks  of  Rossini,  Mozart,  Weber, 
and  Spohr,  joining  to  the^^we  and  power  of  the  German  the 
volubility  and  facility  of  French  and  Italian  singers. 

Such  was  her  success  in  Leipzig  that  she  was  called  to  Ber- 
lin to  sinG;  in  the  Koenisfstadt  Theater.  Her  studies  at  Vicn- 
na  had  prepared  her  to  sing  in  the  operas  of  Rossini;  but  the 
music  of  this  illustrious  maestro,  which  was  enthusiastically 
admired  in  the  capital  of  Austria,  was  not  duly  estimated  at 
Berlin.  Mdlle.  Sontag  was  therefore  chiefly  heard  in  some 
German  operas,  in  which  she  gained  great  renown  through- 
out Germany,  and  she  made  the  fortune  of  the  theatre  which 
possessed  her.  It  was  not  merely  admiration  and  delight 
which  she  inspired,  but  an  enthusiasm  which  manifested  itself 
in  the  most  extravagant  demonstrations  of  rapture  whenever 
she  appeared.  The  old  King  of  Prussia  received  her  at  his 
court  with  paternal  kindness. 

About  this  time  Mdlle.  Sontag  became  acquainted  with 
Count  Rossi,  a  Piedmontese  nobleman,  then  secretary  to  the 
Legation  of  Sardinia  at  Berlin,  and  their  marriage  was  ar- 
ranged to  take  place. 

After  a  sojourn  of  two  years  at  Berlin,  Mdlle.  Sontag  de- 
termined to  visit  Paris.  When  she  announced  her  intention, 
the  Berlin  public  were  very  angry  :  they  told  her  she  might 
either  go  or  stay,  for  they  didn't  care  in  the  least,  while  they 
vented  their  spleen  in  very  unequivocal  marks  of  resentment, 
and,  to  spite  her,  petted  a  rival  singer.     Such  conduct  Avas  not 


302  QUEENS    OF   SONG. 

calculated  to  induce  her  to  forego  her  intentions,  and  at  the 
end  of  May,  1826,  she  profited  by  a  conge,  which  was  granted 
her,  to  go  to  the  French  capital. 

In  the  Parisian  salons,  in  the  daily  papers,  in  the  cafes  and 
restaurants,  people  laughed  at  the  idea  of  la  petite  Allemande, 
who  was  daring  enough  to  appear  in  the  part  of  Rosina  in  II 
Barhiere  di  Seviglia.  What  audacious  self-confidence  this 
Sontag — this  German  Frau  must  be  endowed  with,  to  dare  to 
step  on  a  scene  where  Pasta,  Cinti,  and  Fodor  had  shone !  It 
was  ridiculous !  What  could  M.  le  Vicomte  Sosthenes  de  la 
Rochefoucault  be  dreaming  of? 

On  the  15th  of  June  Mdlle.  Sontag  appeared,  and  curiosity 
to  hear  how  the  German  vocalist  would  maltreat  the  music  of 
Rossini  caused  the  theatre  to  be  filled  to  overflowing.  The 
audience  expected  to  see  a  bold,  robust  songstress  with  a  harsh 
voice.  What  w^as  their  amazement  when  there  flitted  on  to 
the  stage,  in  all  her  shy,  blushing  beauty,  a  young  girl  of  scarce 
twenty  summers,  whose  aspect  at  once  disarmed  criticism. 
The  first  silvery  tones  of  her  voice  in  recitative  produced  a  re- 
action in  her  favor ;  thunders  of  applause  broke  forth,  and  the 
singer's  courage,  which  had  wavered  for  a  moment,  was  now 
assured.  Her  execution  of  the  air  with  Rode's  variations,  in 
the  second  act,  distanced  even  Madame  Catalani,  who  had  till 
then  been  invincible.  The  enthusiasm  of  the  Parisian  public 
rose  to  its  full  height,  and  was  undiminished  by  twenty-three 
subsequent  representations ;  and  she  immediately  received  the 
appropriate  sobriquet  of  the  Nightingale  of  the  North. 

The  principal  operas  in  which  she  appeared  were  II  Bar- 
Mere^  La  Donna  del  Lago^  and  Ultaliana  in  Algieri.  In  this 
last  the  leading  airs  were  transposed  for  a  soprano  voice.  On 
the  occasion  of  her  benefit  she  was  crowned  on  the  stage,  and 
elegant  devices  of  a  complimentary  kind  were  thrown  at  her 
feet.  The  charming  young  German  was  petted  and  caressed 
by  the  Parisian  aristocracy,  and,  through  the  Prussian  embas- 
sador, she  was  honored  with  a  state  dinnei*.  She  was  pi-esent- 
ed  to  Alexander  von  Humboldt  and  to  the  Princess  Dalbei'- 
gischen,  and  required  no  letters  of  introduction  to  render  her 
welcome  in  the  highest  circles.  At  the  house  of  Talleyrand, 
the  young  cantatrice  being  introduced  by  the  Duchess  of  Dino 
to  Madame  de  Baudemont,  the  strong-minded  Duchess  von 
Lothringen,  was  thus  complimented :  "  I  would  not  desire  that 


HENKIETTA   SONTAG.  303 

my  daughter  were  other  than  you."  The  society  of  a  German 
singer — a  thing  before  unheard  of — was  now  sedulously  court- 
ed by  ladies  of  the  highest  fashion  in  Paris ;  and  Benjamin 
Constant  and  his  wife  (the  Countess  Ilardenberg)  made  her 
acquainted  with  the  elite  of  the  Rei^ublican  party. 

Madame  Catalani,  it  is  reported,  declared  of  her,  "  Elle  est 
la  premiere  de  son  genre,  mais  son  genre  n'est  pas  le  premier ;" 
and  a  professor  of  great  reputation  and  experience  introduced 
a  celebrated  flute-player  to  her  in  these  words — "  Ecco  il  tuo 
rivale !" 

Mdlle.  Sontag  was  always  supposed  to  be  on  the  point  of 
marriage,  and  princes,  musicians,  romantic  young  heroes  were 
imagined  by  turns  to  aspire  to  the  honor  of  her  hand,  and  to 
be  dying  of  love  for  her.  No  singer  was  ever  rumored  to 
have  so  many  honorably  disposed  lovers  at  her  feet.  A  mu- 
sician of  celebrity*  and  a  gentleman  of  high  rank  asked  her  in 
marriage  about  this  time,  but  she  rejected  both  offers  without 
reserve,  yet  with  kindness  and  delicacy ;  her  troth  had  been 
already  pledged.  Her  health  failed  for  a  time,  but  the  sea- 
bathing of  Boulogne  restored  her,  and  she  was  in  blooming 
health  when  she  started,  at  the  end  of  September,  182G,  on  her 
return  to  Berlin. 

She  was  offered  fabiilous  terms  in  Paris  if  she  would  give 
up  Berlin,  but  her  heart  and  her  duty  steeled  her  against  every 
temptation. 

On  her  route  she  made  large  sums  by  singing,  and  received 
numerous  handsome  testimonies  to  the  esteem  in  which  she 
was  held.  Just  before  she  left  Paris,  Ebers  wrote  offering  her 
£2000  and  a  benefit  for  the  season.  This  offer  it  was  impos- 
sible for  her  to  accept,  as  she  was  under  a  contract  for  Berlin ; 
he  wrote  again,  volunteering  to  pay  the  forfeit  which  she  might 
incur  by  the  breach  of  her  contract ;  but,  not  wishing  to  break 
her  faith  with  the  Berlin  public,  she  refused. 

She  received  a  hearty  welcome  in  Weimar  and  Frankfort. 
In  Hainz,  the  home  of  her  parents,  she  went  to  see  her  grand- 
mother, and  she  also  visited  her  father's  grave,  and  gave  her 
needy  relatives  proofs  of  her  generosity ;  she  sang  in  the  the- 
atre for  the  poor,  sought  out  the  gray-headed  Mathison,  that 
she  might  receive  the  last  blessing  of  the  aged  poet,  and  left 
the  home  of  her  father  laden  with  love  and  kind  wishes. 

*  Charles  dc  Beriot. 


304  QUEENS    OF   SONG. 

The  Berlin  people  did  not  prove  ungrateful  for  the  prefer- 
ence their  favorite  had  shown  for  them,  though  on  her  first 
reaj^pearance  in  U Italiana  in  Algieri  they  affected  to  be  still 
A'ery  cross,  in  order  that  they  might  be  coaxed  a  little.  There 
was  a  brilliant  comj^any  of  singers  assembled  t|iat  season  in 
Berlin,  and  Madame  Catalani  and  Mdlle.  Scheckner  shared  the 
glory  of  the  day  with  Sontag.  The  King  of  Prussia  engaged 
her  for  his  chapel  at  a  yearly  salary  of  20,000  francs,  about  £840. 

Early  in  1828  she  was  again  in  Paris,  at  the  same  time  with 
Malibran,  who  had  reigned  the  preceding  season.  Mdlle.  Son- 
tag  apjDcared  as  a  novelty  in  La  Cenerentola  j  but  the  music 
of  this  ojDera  suifered  very  much  from  being  transposed  for  a 
soprano  voice.  The  Parisian  public,  which  always  had  a  pen- 
chant for  fomenting  musical  rivalries  and  jealousies,  put  in  di- 
rect opposition  the  cool,  placid  German,  and  the  ardent,  pas- 
sionate Spaniard ;  yet,  excepting  that  they  both  could  sing, 
there  was  very  little  in  common  between  the  two :  however, 
the  war  waged  long  and  hotly,  occasioning  ill  feeling  and  dis- 
cord. 

Mdlle.  Sontag  appeared  in  London  at  the  King's  Theatre, 
April  16,  as  Rosina  in  Rossini's  II  Darhiere,  a  character  which 
affords  every  opportunity  for  the  display  of  lightness  and  gay- 
ety ;  and  of  all  modern  ojDeras,  it  is  the  best  adapted  to  her 
style.  Since  Mrs.  Billington,  never  had  such  high  promise 
been  made,  or  so  much  expectation  excited :  her  talents  had 
been  exaggerated  by  report,  and  her  beauty  and  charms  ex- 
tolled as  matchless;  she  was  declared  to  jDOSsess  all  the  quali- 
ties of  every  singer  in  perfection,  and  as  an  actress  to  be  the 
very  personification  of  grace  and  power.  Stories  of  the  ro- 
mantic attachments  of  foreign  princes  and  English  lords  were 
afloat  in  all  directions :  she  was  going  to  be  married  to  a  per- 
sonage of  the  loftiest  rank — to  a  German  prince — to  an  embas- 
sador; she  was  pursued  by  the  ardent  love  of  men  of  fashion. 
Among  other  stories  in  circulation  was  one  of  a  duel  between 
two  imaginary  rival  candidates  for  a  ticket  of  admission  to 
her  performance;  but  the  most  aflecting  and  trustworthy  story 
was  that  of  an  early  attachment  between  the  beautiful  Henri- 
etta and  a  young  student  of  good  family,  which  was  broken 
off  in  consequence  of  his  passion  for  gambling. 

Mdlle.  Sontag,  before  she  appeared  at  the  Opera,  sang  at 
the  houses  of  Prince  Esterhazy  and  the  Duke  of  Devonshire. 


HEXKIETTA   SONTAG.  305 

An  immense  crowd  assembled  in  front  of  the  theatre  on  tlie 
evening  of  her  debut  at  the  Opera.  The  crush  -was  dreadful ; 
and  when  at  length  the  half-stifled  crowd  managed  to  find 
seats,  "  shoes  were  held  up  in  all  directions  to  be  owned." 
The  audience  waited  in  breathless  suspense  for  the  rising  of 
the  curtain ;  and  when  the  fair  cantatrice  appeared,  the  excited 
throng  could  scarcely  realize  that  the  simple  English-looking 
girl  before  them  was  the  celebrated  Sontag.  On  recovering 
from  their  astonishment,  they  applauded  her  warmly,  and  her 
lightness,  brilliancy,  volubility,  and  graceful  manner  made  her 
at  once  popular.  Her  style  was  more  florid  than  that  of  any 
other  singer  in  Europe,  not  even  excepting  Catalani,  whom  she 
excelled  in  fluency,  though  not  in  volume ;  and  it  was  decid- 
ed that  she  resembled  Fodor  more  than  any  other  singer — 
— which  was  natural,  as  she  had  in  early  life  imitated  that  can- 
tatrice. Her  taste  was  so  cultivated  that  the  redundancy  of 
oi'nament,  especially  the  obligato  passages  which  the  part  of 
Rosina  presents,  never,  in  her  hands,  appeared  overcharged ; 
and  she  sang  the  cavatina  "Una  voce  poco  fa"  in  a  style  as 
new  as  it  was  exquisitely  tasteful.  "Two  passages, introduced 
by  her  in  this  air,  executed  in  a  staccato  manner,  could  not 
have  been  surpassed  in  perfection  by  the  spirited  bow  of  the 
finest  violin-player."  In  the  lesson-scene  she  gave  Rode's  va- 
riations, and  her  execution  of  the  second  variation  in  arpeggios 
was  pronounced  infinitely  superior  to  Catalani's. 

Mdlle.  Sontag  ajipeared  successively  in  the  Cenerentola^  La 
Gazza  Laclra^  as  Zerlina  in  JDon  Giovanni,  and  as  Elena  in 
La  Donna  del  Larjo,  in  which  she  achieved  a  new  success. 
The  part  of  Elena  abounds  in  opportunities  for  the  display  of 
vocalization,  and  the  tranquil  situations  do  not  demand  energy 
or  dramatic  power.  She  also  performed  Palmide  in  II  Cro- 
ciato  for  Velluti's  benefit. 

At  first  the  cognoscenti  were  haunted  by  a  fear  that  Sontag 
would  permit  herself  to  degenerate,  like  Catalani,  into  a  mere 
imitator  of  instrumental  performers,  and  endeavor  to  astonish 
instead  of  pleasing  the  public  by  executing  such  things  as 
Rode's  variations.  But  it  was  soon  observed  that,  while  in- 
dulging in  almost  unlimited  luxuriance  of  embellishment  in 
singing  Rossini's  music,  she  showed  herself  a  good  musician, 
and  never  fell  into  the  fault  common  with  florid  singers,  of  in- 
troducing ornaments  at  variance  with  the  spirit  of  the  air  or 
20 


306  QUEENS    OF   SONG. 

the  harmony  of  the  accomplishments.  In  singing  the  music 
of  Mozart  or  Weber,  she  paid  the  utmost  deference  to  the  text, 
restraining  the  exuberance  of  her  fancy,  and  confining  herself 
within  the  limits  set  by  the  composer.  Her  success  was  test- 
ed by  a  most  substantial  proof  of  her  popularity — her  benefit 
produced  the  enormous  sum  of  £3000. 

Mdlle.  Sontag  was  engaged  by  Laurent  at  the  Theatre  Ital- 
ien  at  a  salary  of  50,000  francs  per  annum,  and  a  conge  of 
three  months  in  the  year.  She  reappeared  as  Desdemona,  but 
the  part  was  not  suited  to  her.  She,  however,  turned  her  at- 
tention seriously  toward  the  study  of  sentiment  and  passion, 
and  the  manner  in  which  she  afterward  performed  the  part  of 
Donna  Anna  in  Don  Giovanni,  of  Semiramide,  and  many  oth- 
er tragic  characters,  showed  that  she  had  to  a  certain  extent 
inspiration  as  well  as  taste  and  grace. 

The  rivalry  between  Malibran  and  Sontag  now  broke  out 
afresh  with  redoubled  vehemence,  and  reached  such  a  height 
that  they  would  not  even  meet  in  the  same  salon;  the  parti- 
sans of  each,  as  it  always  happens,  contributed  to  give  to  this 
rivalry  an  aspect  of  vindictiveness,  and  on  the  stage,  when  they 
sang  in  the  same  oj^era,  their  jealousy  was  scarcely  disguised. 
An  Italian  gentleman,  the  firmest  item  of  whose  musical  creed 
was  that  none  but  Italians  could  sing,  refused  to  admit  that 
Sontag  (whom  he  had  never  heard)  could  by  any  possibility 
be  equal  to  the  singers  of  Italy.  With  great  difficulty  he  was 
induced  to  hear  her ;  when,  listening  for  five  minutes,  he  sud- 
denly quitted  his  seat.  "  Do  stay,"  urged  his  friend.  "  You 
will  be  convinced  presently."  "  I  know  it,"  replied  the  Italian, 
"  and  therefore  I  go." 

One  evening,  at  the  termination  of  the  opera,  the  rival  sing- 
ers were  called  for,  and  a  number  of  wreaths  and  bouquets 
were  flung  on  the  stage.  One  of  the  coronals  fell  at  the  feet 
of  Malibran,  who,  considering  it  was  meant  for  her,  stooped 
and  picked  it  up ;  when  a  stern  voice  from  the  pit  cried  out, 
"  Rendez-la :  ce  n'est  pas  pour  vous !"  "  I  would  not  deprive 
Mdlle.  Sontag  of  the  coronal,"  answered  Malibran,  somewhat 
scornfully  ;  "  I  would  sooner  bestow  one  on  her." 

There  also  commenced  between  Sontao:  and  Madame  Pisa- 
roni  one  of  those  vindictive  contests  of  which  musical  history 
has  so  many  instances,  though  no  two  vocalists  could  possibly 
be  more  different  in  voice  and  style  as  well  as  in  person. 


HENKIETTA   SONTAG.  307 

Having  performed  during  1827  almost  exclusively  in  Berlin, 
Mdlle.  Sontag  appeared  again  in  Loudon  in  May,  1828,  as  An- 
gelina, in  Rossini's  Cenerentola.  She  was  charming,  as  she  al- 
ways was,  her  execution  was  brilliant  as  ever,  and  she  looked 
unusually  lovely  iu  her  splendid  costume  in  the  last  scene. 
She  also  appeared  in  II  JBarhiere,  and  as  Semiramide  for  Ma- 
dame Pisaroni's  benefit ;  hut  there  was  a  want  of  majesty  and 
royal  dignity  in  her  deportment  as  the  Assyrian  Queen  which 
detracted  greatly  from  her  performance. 

Malibran  was  performing  at  the  same  time  on  alternate 
nights,  and  a  reconciliation  had  taken  place  between  the  two 
rival  artistes ;  this  had  been  brought  about,  but  not  without 
much  trouble,  by  M.  Fetis,  who  was  then  in  London.  His  be- 
nevolent purpose  was  aided  by  an  unexj^ected  circumstance. 
They  had  both  promised  to  sing  at  a  concert,  to  be  given  at 
the  house  of  Lord  Saltoun,  for  the  benefit  of  Mr.  Ella.*  Fetis, 
who  was  engaged  to  accompany  the  two  singers,  proposed  to 
them  to  sing  together  the  duo  of  Semiramide  and  Arsace. 
They  agreed,  and  for  the  first  time  their  voices  were  heard  in 
combination ;  each  strove  to  surpass  the  other,  and  the  effect 
of  the  fusion  of  the  two  voices,  so  difierent  in  tone,  character, 
and  expression,  was  so  fine,  that  a  complete  triumph  sealed 
their  reconciliation.  In  consequence  of  this,  Laporte  brought 
forward  operas  iu  which  they  could  play  together.  They  first 
appeared  in  Semiramide,  and  then  in  Don  Giovanni,  when 
Malibran  took  the  part  of  Zerlina.  Malibran's  Zerlina  was 
original  and  sprightly ;  and  Sontag,  who  had  already  perform- 
ed the  arduous  part  of  Donna  Anna  in  London,  executed  it  in 
a  most  brilliant  manner,  delightful  to  the  ear,  if  not  so  satis- 
factory to  the  judgment.  They  also  appeared  together  in  the 
Nozze  di  Figaro,  on  the  occasion  of  Malibran's  benefit.  Mdlle. 
Sontag,  as  the  Countess,  performed  with  appropriate  dignity, 
and  the  celebrated  letter  duet  between  the  Countess  and  Su- 
sanna was  sung  by  them  in  a  style  which  was  not  to  be  sur- 
passed. Sontag  also  appeared  with  her  rival  in  the  second 
act  of  Borneo  e  Giidietta,  but  the  part  of  Giulictta  was  not 
suited  to  her. 

Her  sister  Nina  appeared  at  Mdlle.  Sontag's  benefit  in  the 
ZauberJ^ote.    The  sisters  bore  a  strong  resemblance,  both  iu 

*  Now  the  director  of  the  "Musical  Union." 


308  QUEENS   OF   SONG. 

person  and  in  voice,  but  as  a  performer  Nina  was  very  inferior 
to  Henrietta. 

On  the  29tli  of  January,  1829,  she  made  her  reappearance  at 
the  Theatre  Italien  as  Rosina ;  she  also  performed  during  the 
summer  in  London,  with  Malibvan.  Her  most  remarkable 
performance  was  Carolina  in  II  Matrimonio  Segreto^  which 
she  gave  with  great  feeling  and  occasional  comic  humor ;  she 
also  performed  Desdemona  several  times.  She  reappeared  in 
Paris,  September  16,  in  /S'e/?^^;"awi^V?(^,  Madame  Pisaroni  being 
the  Arsace ;  and  in  October  in  Matilda  cU  Shabra)i. 

Mdlle.  Sontag  had  now  been  for  more  than  a  year  married 
to  the  Count  Rossi,  but  the  union  was  preserved  a  secret  for 
a  long  time,  his  family  not  chosing  to  recognize  a  singer,  and 
one  who  could  not  boast  of  descent  from  nobility.  Count 
Rossi  was  a  native  of  Corsica,  a  relative  of  Bonaparte  by  the 
Romalino  family,  and  his  sister  was  married  to  the  Prince  de 
Salm.  The  secrecy  of  Henrietta's  marriage  was  unfortunate, 
and  calumny  for  the  first  time  assailed  her,  until  at  last  the 
fact  of  her  marriage  transjDired,  when  she  determined  to  un- 
dertake an  art  tour  through  Europe  and  then  retire.  She  had 
been  ennobled  by  the  King  of  Prussia  under  the  title  of  Mdlle. 
de  Lauenstein. 

She  made  her  adieux  to  the  Parisian  public  in  January, 
1830,  and,  returning  to  Berlin,  she  there  closed  the  first  por- 
tion of  her  dramatic  career.  May  the  19th,  by  the  performance 
of  the  Semiramicle  of  Rossini.  The  enthusiasm  of  the  pub- 
lic was  not  to  be  described.  From  the  Prussian  caj^ital  she 
went  to  Russia,  singing  at  St.  Petersburg,  Moscow,  and  War- 
saw with  incredible  success. 

On  arriving  at  Hamburg,  on  her  return  from  Russia,  she 
was  received  with  every  mark  of  distinction  by  the  principal 
inhabitants  of  that  city,  and  by  the  hereditary  Prince  of  Meck- 
lenburg, who  happened  to  be  on  a  visit  there  with  his  prin- 
cess. She  received  an  invitation  from  the  citizens  of  Bremen, 
who  ofiered  carte  blanche  as  to  terms ;  but,  gratefully  declin- 
ing the  ofier,  she  stated  decisively  her  resolve  to  retire  alto- 
gether from  public  life.  At  a  supper  given  in  compliment  to 
her  by  a  distinguished  English  merchant  at  Hamburg,  she  an- 
nounced herself  for  the  first  time  as  the  Countess  Rossi.  At 
Hamburg  she  sang  for  the  last  time  in  public,  but  only  at  con- 
certs, in  which  she  showed  that  her  powers,  far  from  having 


HENELETTA    SONTAG.  309 

declined,  had  gained  in  compass,  in  execution,  and,  above  all, 
in  exiDvession. 

The  Countess  Rossi  lived  first  at  the  Hague,  then  for  a  short 
time  at  Frankfort-on-the-Maine.  In  1835  she  was  at  the  lat- 
ter place,  where,  as  a  matter  of  etiquette,  she  took  precedence 
of  all  the  ladies  of  the  corps  diplomatique,  her  husband  beino- 
minister  plenii^otentiary  to  the  Germanic  Diet. 

In  1838  Madame  Rossi  paid  a  visit  to  Berlin,  where  she  had 
the  honor  of  dining  with  the  royal  family,  and  after  the  repast 
she  joined  in  several  ducts  and  concerted  pieces  with  the 
princes  and  lirincesses. 

She  devoted  herself  on  her  retirement  from  the  stage  to  the 
study  of  composition.  At  Vienna,  and  at  the  houses  of  Prince 
Esterhazy  and  Prince  Metternich,  in  1841,  she  executed  a  can- 
tr.ta  entitled  II  Naxifragio  Fortunato^  for  a  soprano  voice  and 
chorus,  of  which  she  wrote  a  i)ortion  during  a  sojourn  in  Hun- 
gary. This  work  was  received  with  the  greatest  enthusiasm 
by  a  brilliant  and  numerous  company,  and  Madame  Rossi  re- 
ceived from  the  empress  an  autograph  letter,  begging  of  her 
to  sing  her  cantata  in  the  concert  which  her  imperial  majesty 
was  about  to  give  in  her  apartments,  to  which  were  invited 
the  imperial  family  and  all  the  court. 

The  political  storm  which  swept  over  Europe  in  1848  re- 
duced the  family  of  Count  Rossi  to  ruin,  and  when  the  revolu- 
tion broke  out  at  Berlin  Madame  Rossi's  fortune  was  lost. 
With  a  real  nobility  of  soid  the  countess  firmly  breasted  the 
storm:  she  announced  her  intention  of  reappearing  once  more 
on  the  stage,  and  accepted  an  ofier  of  £17,000  from  Mr.  Lum- 
ley,  of  Her  Majesty's  Theatre.     On  the  7th  of  July,  1849,  she 
made  her  appearance  in  Linda  di  Chamouni,  as  "Madame 
Sontag."     Her  reception  Avas  cordial  and  enthusiastic,  and  the 
most  eager  interest  was  evinced  in  this  fresh  debut.     Her 
voice  had  suffered  little  during  a  repose  of  seventeen  or  eight- 
een years,  and  still  possessed  its  "  exquisite  purity  and  spirit- 
uelle  quality,"  which  rendered  it  a  luxury  to  hear  her.     If  her 
lower  notes  had  lost  a  little  of  their  fuhness  and  freedom,  the 
upper  tones  still  retained  their  roundness  and  beauty,  and  her 
execution  had  lost  nothing  of  that  marvelous  flexibility  which 
was  its   characteristic.     She  still  possessed  "  the  finish,  the 
charm,  the  placid  and  serene  expression"  which  had  former- 
ly pre-eminently  distinguished  her;  and  always  a  thorough 


310  QUEENS   OP   SONG. 

aud  conscientious  artist,  she  still  remained  so,  althougli  she 
found  herself  in  presence  of  a  new  public,  who  had  become  ac- 
customed to  a  different  style  of  singing. 

All  her  former  companions  had  long  vanished  from  the 
scene.  The  brilhant  Malibran  had  been  dead  for  thirteen 
years ;  Madame  Pisaroni  had  disappeared  for  the  same  length 
of  time;  and  the  "  stars"  who  now  shone  on  the  musical  world 
had  not  appeared  when  Henrietta  Sontag  left  the  stage  in 
1830.  Giulia  Grisi,  Clara  Novello,  Pauline  Viardot,  Fanny 
Persian!,  Jenny  Lind,  Marietta  Alboni,  Nantier  Didier,  Sophie 
Cruvelli,  Catharine  Hayes,  Louisa  Pyne,  Duprez,  Mario,  Ron- 
coni,  Tagliafico,  Gardoni — this  brilliant  galaxy  of  musical  gen- 
ius had  arisen  since  the  day  she  announced  herself  as  the 
Countess  Rossi ;  and  Bellini,  Donizetti,  aud  Meyerbeer  had 
written  their  best  operas  since  that  day. 

Lablache — the  good-hearted,  kind,  joyous,  dear  old  comrade 
of  earlier  days — was  perhaps  the  only  familiar  friend  she  rec- 
ognized on  returning  to  Her  Majesty's  Theatre.  Even  the 
King's  Theatre  had  been  metamorphosed. 

Madame  Sontag  appeared  in  her  favorite  character  of  Rosi- 
na,  with  Lablache  and  Gardoni ;  she  also  performed  Amina 
and  Desdemona.  Had  it  not  been  that  the  attention  of  the 
public  was  absorbed  by  "the  Swedish  Nightingale"  and  the 
"  glorious  Alboni,"  Madame  Sontag  would  have  renewed  the 
triumphs  of  1828.  The  next  season  she  sang  again  at  Her 
Majesty's  as  Norina,  Elvii'a  (I  Puritani),  Zerlina,  and  Maria 
(in  La  Figl'ia  del  Regglmento)^  characters  which  she  perform- 
ed for  the  first  time.  The  chief  novelty  was  La  Tempestdi^ 
written  by  Scribe  and  composed  by  Halevy  expressly  for  Her 
Majesty's  Theatre,  the  drama  having  been  translated  into  Ital- 
ian from  the  French  original.  It  Avas  got  up  with  extraordi- 
nary splendor,  and  had  a  considerable  run.  Madame  Sontag 
sang  charmingly  in  the  character  of  Miranda ;  but  the  great- 
est effect  was  created  by  Lablache's  magnificent  impersona- 
tion of  Caliban  :  no  small  share  of  the  success  of  the  piece  was 
due  to  the  famous  danseuse  Carlotta  Grisi,  who  seemed  to 
take  the  most  appropriate  part  ever  designed  for  ballerina 
when  she  undertook  to  represent  Ariel.  With  the  exception 
of  Carlotta,  all  have  passed  away  like  a  dream — Halevy,  Scribe, 
Lablache,  Henrietta  Sontag. 

When,  at  the  close  of  1850,  the  Theatre  Italien  of  Paris 


HENRIETTA  SONTAG.  311 

opened  under  the  management  of  Mr.  Liimley,  Madame  Son- 
tag,  as  the  prima  donna,  was  welcomed  with  a  new  ovation. 
Respect,  admiration,  and  deferential  sympathy  animated  the 
audience.  "Even  amid  the  loud  aj^plause  with  which  the 
crowd  greeted  her  reappearance  on  the  stage,"  says  a  French 
writer,  "  it  was  easy  to  distinguish  the  respect  which  was 
entertained  for  the  virtuous  lady,  the  devoted  wife  and 
mother."  • 

In  1851  Madame  Sontag  was  again  at  Her  Majesty's  Thea- 
tre. She  was  next  heard  in  Vienna  and  Berlin.  In  1852  she 
accepted  an  offer  to  go  to  America.  She  appeared  at  Her 
Majesty's  Theatre  for  a  limited  number  of  nights  previous  to 
her  departure. 

On  her  arrival  at  New  York,  September  19,  she  commenced 
a  series  of  concerts  at  the  Metropolitan  Hall,  with  Salvi  and 
Signora  Blangini.  From  New  York  she  went  to  Boston  and 
Philadelphia.  Her  course  was  a  triumphant  one,  and  she  be- 
came one  of  the  greatest  favorites  that  had  ever  visited  the 
New  World.  A  portion  of  the  capital  realized  by  her  enter- 
tainments was  devoted  by  her  to  the  purchase  of  a  chateau 
and  domain  in  Germany.  In  New  Orleans,  in  1854,  she  enter- 
ed into  an  engagement  with  M.  Masson,  director  of  the  prin- 
cipal theatre  in  the  city  of  Mexico,  to  sing  in  opera  for  a 
fixed  period  of  two  months,  with  the  privilege  on  his  part  of 
continuing  the  arrangement  for  three  months  longer,  at  a  sal- 
ary of  $7000.  Madame  Sontag  dispatched  her  agent,  Mr.  Ull- 
man,  to  Europe,  to  secure  a  company,  and  he  had  nearly  con- 
cluded his  mission,  when  news  arrived  from  America  that 
she  had  died  in  Mexico  on  the  17th  of  June,  of  an  attack  of 
cholera. 

Her  funeral  took  place  on  the  19th  of  Juno,  in  presence  of 
an  immense  concourse  of  people,  including  the  corps  dijiloma- 
tique.  The  funeral  service  was  celebrated  with  great  grand- 
eur: the  instrumental  performers  included  the  orchestras  of 
the  two  Italian  theatres ;  the  nuns  of  San  Francisco  sang  the 
canticles ;  the  German  Philharmonic  Society  intoned  a  prayer 
to  the  Virgin,  and  sang  a  chorus  of  Lindpaintner's  "Ne  m'ou- 
bliez  pas ;"  and  M.  Pantaleon  Tovar  declaimed  a  composition 
in  beautiful  Spanish  verse  to  the  memory  of  the  departed.  It 
was  nine  o'clock  in  the  evening  before  the  ceremony  was  con- 
cluded. 


312 


QUEENS   OF  SONG. 


The  remains  of  the  '"deceased  lady  were  transported  to  Ger- 


many, 


to  be  buriec^ 


Her  husband  had 
leaving  the  body 
rier,  with  other  y 


^he  Abbey  of  Marienstern,  in  Lausitz. 

T  'exico  immediately  after  her  death, 

<o  be  sent  to  the  port  by  a  car- 


JULIE  DOKUS  GKAS.  313 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

JULIE     DOR  US     GEAS. 

The  chef-d'orchestre  of  the  Valenciennes  Theatre,  at  the  be- 
ginning of  the  present  century,  was  a  Monsieur  Dorus,  Avho 
had  been  a  soldier,  and  served  his  country  on  the  field  of  bat- 
tle, but  had  wisely  turned  his  musical  talents  to  account.  He 
had  two  children,  a  boy  and  a  girl,  whom  he  resolved  to  bring 
up  in  his  favorite  profession. 

The  girl,  Julie  (born  about  180S),  had  a  clear,  brilliant, 
though  somewhat  hard  voice,  and  being  smart  and  clever,  she 
so  quickly  profited  by  the  lessons  imparted  by  her  father,  that 
ere  she  had  entered  her  teens  she  sang  at  a  concert.  The 
municipality  of  Valenciennes,  perceiving  the  undoubted  gifts 
of  this  little  vocalist,  adopted  her,  and  sent  her  to  the  Conser- 
vatoire de  Paris,  with  an  allowance  of  1500  francs  per  annum 
for  three  years.  She  entered  as  a  pupil  in  December,  1821, 
and  in  a  year  after  she  sent,  as  a  token  of  gratitude  to  her  na- 
tive city,  the  coronal  which  she  had  received  from  the  hands 
of  Cherubini  in  the  sino;inQC  class  of  Henri  and  Blanoiui.  Paer 
and  Bordogni  were  her  next  masters,  to  whom  the  maturing 
of  her  talents  and  the  finish  of  her  style  arc  due. 

On  leaving  the  Conservatoire,  Mdlle.  Dorus  was  heard  at 
various  concerts  in  Paris,  and  she  then  began  to  travel  in  the 
provinces,  giving  concerts.  Her  fresh  melodious  voice,  in  the 
management  of  which  she  was  already  skillful,  gradually  ob- 
tained singular  neatness  and  fiucncy  of  execution.  Her  first 
appearance  on  the  stage  was  at  the  Theatre  Royal  in  Brussels, 
Avhere  she  met  with  such  complete  success  that  she  attracted 
the  notice  of  Count  Lidelkerke,  on  whose  behalf  she  was  of- 
fered terms  for  an  engagement  at  the  opera.  These  she  ac- 
cepted, and  for  six  months  she  studied  lyric  declamation  with 
M.  Cassel,  an  artiste  of  the  Theatre  Royal.  She  then  made 
her  debut  in  opera  and  gained  much  applause. 

It  will  be  recollected  with  what  fury  the  Revolution  of  Sep- 
tember, 1830,  flashed  on  Brussels  at  a  representation  of  the 

0 


314  QUEENS    OF   SONG. 

French  opera  La  Muette  dl  Portici.  This  uproar  terrified 
Mdlle.  Dorus,  who  performed  Elvira,  and  she  fled  to  Valen- 
ciennes. However,  she  did  not  forget  her  kind  friends,  and 
expressed  her  feelings  of  gratitude  by  giving  a  concert  for  the 
benefit  of  the  victims  of  the  oiitbreak. 

She  next  obtained  an  engagement  from  the  directors  of  the 
Academie  of  Paris,  and  on  the  19th  of  November,  1830,  she 
made  her  debut  in  Le  Comte  Ory^  when  she  was  received  with 
marked  favor.  Her  person  and  her  voice  were  equally  agree- 
able. She  was  of  middle  stature,  light  and  graceful  in  form, 
and  exceedingly  pretty,  with  blue  eyes  and  blonde  hair.  Her 
voice  was  thoroughly  French,  possessing  at  once  all  the  beau- 
ties and  all  the  defects  of  the  school  to  which  she  belonged. 
Its  compass  was  two  octaves,  from  D  to  D,  but  the  tone  was 
weak  in  the  lower  notes ;  in  the  high  notes,  on  the  contrary, 
her  voice  gained  volume,  penetrating  power,  and  exti-aordi- 
nary  brilliancy.  "She  shines  above  all  in  fioriture  and  the 
ornaments  of  vocalization,"  says  Escudier.  "  Passages  the 
most  eccentric,  caprices  the  most  varied,  roulades  the  most 
daring,  offered  no  obstacle  to  the  marvelous  facility  of  her 
throat.  Mdlle.  Dorus  is  remarkable  also  for  the  briUiancy  and 
the  vigor  of  her  singing.  Her  voice,  of  j)erfect  intonation, 
seizes  each  note  with  certainty  and  a  surj^rising  firmness." 
The  highest  notes  seemed  to  escape  her  with  as  much  ease  as 
an  ordinary  breath ;  not  a  sign  denoted  that  the  effort  cost 
her  a  moment's  thought,  and  her  singing  pleased  the  eye  as 
much  as  the  ear.  It  was  afterward  laughingly  said  in  Parisian 
circles  that  "  when  once  she  touches  a  high  note,  her  audience 
may  lounge  into  a  neighboring  cafe,  eat  an  ice,  and  yet  be  back 
before  she  has  changed  it."  Grisi  herself  could  hardly  dwell 
so  loner  on  a  note.  If  Mdlle. Dorus  could  have  combined  a  lit- 
tie  more  charm  and  softness  with  her  brilliancy,  she  would  have 
been  perfect. 

She  had  many  beauties,  but  also  many  defects.  She  often 
regarded  with  indifference  the  words  of  her  song  —  a  grave 
fault  for  a  singer  endowed  with  a  musical  feeling  so  delicate. 
She  was  also  too  apt  to  consider  the  melody  as  a  theme 
whereon  she  was  at  liberty  to  heap  a  redundance  of  variations. 
In  flexibility  she  was  sur^^assed  by  few  singers :  she  could  ex- 
ecute the  most  difficult  passages  with  extraordinary  fluency 
and  rapidity ;  but  for  purity  of  tone  and  volume,  her  organ. 


JULIE  DOEUS  GKAS.  315 

like  most  singers  of  the  French  school,  was  throaty,  and  want- 
ing in  the  dulcet  sweetness  of  the  Italian  vocalists.     While 
singing  with  the  ease  of  a  bird,  she  had  a  disagreeable  habit 
of  forcing  up  the  notes. 
/       She  was  an  admirable  musician  —  one  of  the  best  that  had 

I appeared  on  the  French  stage  for  years :  as  an  actress  she  was^ 

composed,  but  inert  and  indiflerent.  The  impossibility  of  her 
attaining  tragic  or  impassioned  dignity  was  owing,  perhaps, 
to  her  want  of  physical  strength ;  for  she  had  an  ideal  of  pas- 
sion in  her  mind,  though  she  was  incapable  of  embodying  it; 
she  was  not  able  even  to  look  a  tragic  part.  There  was  no 
deficiency  of  genuine  feeling,  but  she  always  appeared  to  expe- 
rience an  insuperable  difficulty  in  arousing,  and,  when  aroused, 
exerting  with  sustained  energy,  all  her  powers :  an  aspect  of 
languor  and  exhaustion  clouded  her  countenance  while  on  the 
stage.  In  light  and  coquettish  characters,  where  there  was 
not  much  action  required,  she  was  sometimes  arch  and  capti- 
vating. Her  most  advantageous  characters  were  Elvira  in  La 
Muette^  and  Mathilde  in  Guillaume  Tell.  When  off  the  stage, 
her  manner  was  graceful,  unobtrusive,  and  amiable,  if  not 
specially  intellectual :  the  very  tones  of  her  voice  in  conversa- 
tion spoke  of  a  kind  and  gentle  nature. 

At  the  opening  of  the  Academic  in  June,  1831,  Mdlle.  Do- 
rus  obtained  her  first  chance  of  appearing  in  a  iDrominent  part. 
She  was  unexpectedly  called  on  to  replace  Madame  Damo- 
reau,  who  was  suddenly  taken  ill.  The  piece  was  Guillaiane 
Tell,  and  Mdlle.  Dorus  willingly  undertook  the  character  of 
■  Mathilde.  The  same  month,  Auber's  Le  Philtre  was  ready, 
but  Madame  Damoreau  Avas  not,  and  Mdlle.  Dorus  took  the 
part  of  Theresine.  She  performed  this  admirably,  with  much 
esprit  and  coquettish  grace,  and  showed  that  she  had  no  need 
of  the  indulgence  claimed  for  her.  The  talent  of  Mdlle.  Dorus, 
it  was  observed,  acquired  each  day  new  force. 

In  1831  the  Opera  came  into  the  hands  of  Dr.  Veron,  re- 
nowned for  his  literary,  musical,  and  medical  tastes.  lie  de- 
termined to  make  his  operatic  reign  an  era  in  the  annals  of 
music,  and  by  a  combination  of  good  fortune  and  good  judg- 
ment he  certainly  succeeded.  The  prima  donnas  Avcre  Mdlle. 
Dorus  and  Madame  Damoreau ;  the  male  singers,  Taglioni  and 
the  Elsslers. 

Meyerbeer  commenced  his  Robert  le  Diahle  in  1828,  but, 


316  QUEENS   OF   SONG. 

interrupted  by  liis  frequent  journeys,  the  opera  was  not  com- 
pleted before  the  month  of  July,  1830.  Written  for  the  Aca- 
demie,  this  work  was  disposed  of  by  the  composer  to  the  ad- 
ministration, when  the  Revolution  put  to  flight  all  ideas  of 
music  and  harmony.  Toward  the  end  of  the  following  year, 
however,  Robert  le  Dlable  was  put  in  rehearsal.  Meyerbeer, 
an  ardent  lover  of  his  art,  was  in  a  state  of  feverish  agitation, 
and  the  critics  did  their  best  to  extinguish  the  courage  of  the 
composer.  At  the  last  general  rehearsal  there  was  the  usual 
number  of  loungers,  who  indulged  in  sneers,  suppressed  laugh- 
ter, shrugs,  sarcasms,  and  evil  prognostications,  which  circu- 
lated on  the  stage,  and  in  the  lobbies  and  boxes :  it  was  said 
that  the  piece  would  not  survive  ten  representations. 

At  the  rehearsal  of  his  operas  Meyerbeer  was  always  timid 
and  nervous,  and  in  his  overanxiety  he  consulted  every  body 
— the  machinist,  the  prompter,  even  the  very  carpenters.  One 
may  fancy  the  unhappy  composer,  with  his  small,  slight  figure, 
and  dark  Jewish  countenance,  his  pensive  air  and  his  sj^ark- 
ling  eyes,  in  the  midst  of  his  tormentors,  a  prey  to  misgivings 
and  apprehensions,  and  almost  to  despair.  Dr.  Veron,  how- 
evei',  was  confident  of  the  success  of  the  new  piece,  and  al- 
though assailed  on  all  sides  by  spiteful  speeches,  he  strolled 
hither  and  thitlier,  listening  with  smiling  serenity  to  the  de- 
tractors. 

Dr.  Yeron  met  Fetis  on  the  stage,  and  the  critic  did  not 
conceal  his  forebodings  as  to  the  fate  o? Robert  le  Diable.  "Do 
not  be  uneasy,"  blandly  replied  the  rubicund  doctor;  "I  have 
listened  attentively,  and  am  satisfied  that  I  am  not  deceived. 
In  this  work  the  great  qualities  immeasurably  transcend  its 
imperfections.  The  situations  are  striking,  the  expression  is 
powerful ;  the  impression  can  not  fail  to  be  instantaneous  and 
profound.     It  will  make  the  tour  of  the  world." 

Every  body  belonging  to  the  theatre  exerted  themselves  to 
the  utmost  to  insure  the  success  of  the  opera.  The  mise  en 
zchie  was  rich  and  splendid;  the  orchestra  was  admirable; 
the  costumes  were  superb,  and  the  last  scene  was  dazzling. 
At  first  the  critics  endeavored  to  contravene  the  opinion  of 
the  public,  but  they  were  obliged  to  yield  and  join  in  the 
pasans  of  laudation;  "for  nobody,"  as  M.  Fetis  judiciously  re- 
marks, "  can  resist  the  whole  world."  Then  they  came  to  ad- 
mit that  it  was  the  finest  opera,  except  Guillaume  Tell,  that 


JULIE   DOEUS   GEAS.  317 

had  Leen  produced  at  the  Academie  for  years.  It  certainly- 
made  the  fortune  of  the  establishment ;  it  j^laced  Meyerbeer, 
at  one  bound,  on  the  summit  of  glory,  and  it  made  Julie  Do- 
rus  a  celebrity. 

Adolphe  Nourrit  was  an  admirable  Robert:  his  voice,  his 
handsome  figure,  his  style  of  acting,  exactly  suited  the  charac- 
ter. His  voice  had  not  originally  been  either  light  or  flexible, 
but  he  had  resolutely  set  himself,  with  the  aid  of  Garcia,  to 
the  task  of  subduing  it  to  his  control ;  and  although  he  did 
not  attain  the  brilliant  fluency  or  the  passionate  intensity  of 
Rubini,  he  could  execute  rapid  passages  in  a  satisfactory  man- 
ner, while  any  defects  in  his  vocalization  were  amply  atoned 
for  by  his  charming  method  of  phrasing,  and  his  exquisite  fal- 
setto. He  had  great  tact  and  discretion  in  the  conception  of 
a  character  and  the  expression  of  dramatic  emotion ;  he  seized 
the  most  delicate  phases  of  character  Avith  quick  intelligence, 
and  gave  them  such  an  aspect  of  dramatic  truth  that  it  seem- 
ed as  if  the  parts  he  created  could  not  be  represented  in  any 
other  manner.  The  music  of  Meyerbeer  offei'ed  the  severest 
trial  to  which  a  singer  could  be  subjected.  "  Completely  dif- 
ferent from  the  Rossinian  system,  so  favorable  to  the  voice,  it 
was  a  return  toward  the  declaimed  opera,"  observed  Fetis, 
"but  in  proportions  so  massive  and  with  an  instrumentation 
so  formidable  that  success  must  inflict  on  individual  vocalists 
serious  injury  and  deterioration."  Fortunately  Nourrit,  by 
an  adroit  use  of  his  falsetto,  managed  to  escape  with  less  det- 
riment to  his  vocal  organ  than  he  might  have  sufiered  had  he 
constantly  employed  his  chest-voice.  Levasseur  was  a  verita- 
ble basso,  and  with  Nourrit,  Madame  Damoreau,  and  Mdlle. 
Dorus,  completed  a  group  of  singers  of  which  France  bad  just 
reason  to  be  proud. 

As  Alice,  Mdlle.  Dorus  created  the  most  powerful  sensation ; 
it  was  pronounced  to  be  one  of  the  most  exquisite  perform- 
ances ever  seen.  It  was  truly  "  angelic,"  said  Meyerbeer  him- 
self, who  was  hard  to  please  in  the  matter  of^jJnVic  do7ine. 
Every  one  who  performed  the  character  after  —  even  Jenny 
Lind  and  Pauline  Viardot  —  adopted  the  model  presented  by 
the  charming  Julie  Dorus ;  and  the  traditions  of  her  acting 
and  singing  in  this  part  have  become  classical. 

Rossini,  it  was  said,  was  unable  to  pardon  the  success  of 
Mohcrt  le  Dkihle;  and  his  vexation  was  redoubled  on  finding 


318  QUEENS   OF  SONG. 

that  his  Guillaume  Tell,  3Ios^,  and  iSieffe  of  Corinth  were 
no-w  only  fragmentarily  lierformed.  Dr.  Veron,  to  propitiate 
the  Italian  maestro,  proposed  to  him  to  compose  Gu8tave,y^\Xh 
Scribe  for  his  collaborateur ;  but  Rossini  shrugged  his  shoul- 
ders, and,  with  a  sardonic  smile,  replied, "  I  will  return  to  It- 
aly, and  will  come  back  when  the  Sabbath  of  the  Jews  is 
over." 

Meyerbeer,  it  should  be  remembered,  entertained  the  most 
profound  respect  and  admiration  for  Rossini,  and  was  passion-. 
ately  delighted  with  his  operas. 

Herold  had,  in  1832,  just  produced  his  opera  JOe  Pre  aux 
Clercs;  but  the  composer  was  on  his  death-bed,  and  lived  only 
to  witness  the  success  of  his  final  opera,  which  soothed  his  last 
moments.  Madame  Casirair  beiug  unexpectedly  taken  ill  after 
the  first  representation,  the  theatre  was  closed.  Herold  sent 
to  Mdlle.  Dorus,  and  begged  her,  with  tears,  to  undertake  the 
part  of  the  heroine,  and  Dr.  Yeron  consented  to  lend  the  serv- 
ices of  the  accomplished  artiste ;  she  worked  with  ardor  for 
three  or  four  days,  and  on  the  21st  of  December,  1832,  gained 
a  new  triumph  in  the  part  of  Isabelle,  which  she  played  for 
twelve  nights  consecutively. 

Mdlle.  Dorus  continued  her  studies  with  conscientious  per- 
severance, and  gradually  rendered  herself  worthy  of  taking 
the  place  of  Madame  Damoreau.  The  libretto  of  Gustave,  re- 
jected so  disdainfully  by  Rossini,  was  accepted  by  Auber, 
whose  genius,  light,  spirituel,  sparkling,  was  overpowered  by 
it.  "  The  poet  kills  the  music,"  says  a  sprightly  French  writer, 
"  and  the  ballet  kills  the  opera."  The  fifth  act  arrives,  and, 
disembarrassed  of  Gustavo  and  of  M.  Scribe,  the  musician  be- 
comes lively.  Gustave  was  produced  February  27, 1833,  with 
the  followiuo;  cast  —  iSTourrit  as  Gustave,  Levasseur  as  Anker- 
stroem,  Mdlle.  Falcon  as  the  Countess  Amelie,  and  Mdlle.  Do- 
rus as  the  Page.  But  the  audience  dozed  through  four  acts 
to  awake  with  delight  at  the  fifth ;  thanks  to  which,  and  its 
gorgeous  masquerade,  Gustave  was  popular  for  some  time; 
but  the  four  preliminary  acts  soon  disappeared,  and  the  fifth 
alone  survived. 

This  year  Mdlle.  Dorus  married  M.  Gras,  first  violin  of  the 
orchestra  at  the  Opera,  where  her  brother,  M.  Dorus,  an  ex- 
quisite flute-player,  held  an  eminent  i:)Osition. 

After  Robert,  the  next  great  triumph  for  Madame  Dorus 


i 


JULIE  DORUS  GKAS.  319 

Gras,  and  for  Mdlle.  Falcon,  the  new  operatic  star  at  tbe  Aca- 
clemie,  was  La  Juive.  The  great  character  of  Rachel  was 
given  to  Mdlle.  Falcon,  and  Madame  Dorus  Gras  had  the  part 
of  Euxodie.  Nourrit  and  Levasseur  were  the  leadinir  male 
vocalists.  All  Paris  thronged  to  admire  the  resplendent  scen- 
ery and  the  glittering  armor,  and  applauded  vociferously. 

At  a  performance  of  Robert  le  Diable^  Rossini,  who  was  in 
a  box  with  Meyerbeer,  was  so  pleased  with  some  particular 
morceau,  that  he  said  to  his  illustrious  confrere,  "If  you  write 
any  thing  better  than  this,  I  will  undertake  to  dance  upon  my 
head."  "  You  had  better,  then,  commence  practicing,"  re- 
sponded Meyerbeer,  gravely,  "as  I  have  just  finished  the  fourth 
act  of  Les  Huguenots.'''' 

M.  Yeron,  knowing  the  dilatory  habits  of  Meyerbeer,  or 
rather  his  habit  of  taking  an  immense  time  to  elaborate  his 
composition,  made  an  agreement  with  the  composer,  by  which 
the  maestro  engaged  to  deliver  the  score  ofXes  Huguenots  by 
a  fixed  day.  The  day  arrived,  and  the  opera  was  placed  in 
rehearsal ;  but  Madame  Meye^-beer  having  been  ordered  to  It- 
aly on  account  of  her  health,  her  husband  determined  on  ac- 
companying her.  He  demanded  from  the  Opera  a  delay  of 
six  months,  which  was  refused ;  whereupon  he  took  up  his 
score  and  put  it  in  his  pocket.  "  I  and  my  opera,"  he  said, 
"  are  one.  I  depart ;  my  opera  goes  with  me."  And  he  paid 
the  forfeit  of  30,000  francs  rather  than  permit  Les  Huguenots 
to  be  rehearsed  without  his  personal  superintendence.  But 
he  could  not  forgive  the  exaction  of  the  forfeit,  and  he  never 
pardoned  M.  Yeron.  He  refused  to  let  him  have  Les  Hugue- 
nots on  any  terms,  and  subsequently  offered  it  to  M.  Dupon- 
chel,  who  succeeded  M.  Yoron  in  the  management,  and  gener- 
ously volunteered  to  repay  Meyerbeer  the  30,000  francs ;  but 
the  composer  would  accept  only  20,000. 

The  success  oi  Les  Huguenots  was  neither  so  brilliant  nor 
immediate  as  that  of  its  predecessor.  At  first  the  public  were 
imable  to  rightly  appreciate  the  merits  of  Les  Huguenots,  and 
by  the  critics  it  was  placed  below  Bohert  le  Diahle.  The  en- 
thusiasm was  shared  between  Nourrit  (Raoul),  Falcon  (Yalen- 
tine),  and  Dorus  Gras  (Marguerite).  It  created  a  great  sensa- 
tion, however. 

During  the  summer,  Madame  Dorus  Gras,  with  Xourrit  and 
some  other  performers,  accepted  an  engagement  at  the  theatre 


320  QUEEIfS    OF   SONG. 

of  Lille.  She  then  visited  the  principal  towns  of  the  north  of 
France,  and  Brussels.  In  183G  she  was  at  Toulouse,  when  the 
workmen  gave  her  a  serenade,  surprisingly  well  performed. 

M.  Dujionchel  did  not  sleep  in  the  midst  of  his  present  pros- 
perity. Dreading  lest  a  cold  or  other  indisi^osition  should  in- 
capacitate the  first  tenor,  !N"ourrit,  he  sought  every  where,  in 
vain,  for  another,  nntil  one  day,  on  the  quay  at  Rouen,  he  heard 
a  handsome  young  cooper,  one  Poultier,  who  was  singing  with 
all  the  force  of  his  lungs.  Struck  with  his  fine  tenor  voice, 
Duponchel  brought  this  young  man  to  Paris,  instructed  him, 
and  engaged  him  at  a  salary  of  1000  francs  a  month.  But 
Poultier,  though  he  sang  very  well,  was  not  a  substitute  for 
ISTourrit,  and  M.  Duponchel  had  to  resume  his  pursuit  of  a  ten- 
or. At  last  he  heard  of  Louis  Gilbert  Duprez,  and  wrote  to 
him,  and  in  the  November  following  Duprez  arrived  in  Paris. 

A  day  was  fixed  when  the  young  tenor  was  to  sing  before 
a  kind  of  musical  jury,  consisting  of  IVIessrs.  Duponchel,  Ha- 
levy,  and  Ruolz:  the  latter,  at  Naples,  had  written  Lara  for 
him.  Duprez  sang,  and  the  future  hero  of  a  succession  of  op- 
eratic triumphs  was  revealed.  He  was  accordingly  engaged, 
Duponchel  going  through  the  form  of  consulting  Nourrit  on 
the  subject.  From  that  time  Duprez's  brilliant  career  began; 
but  the  result  was  fatal  to  the  unfortunate  Nourrit.  Conceal- 
ing his  grief  and  mortification  at  being  thus  eclipsed  and  set 
aside,  he  left  Paris  and  went  to  Italy.  His  melancholy  gradu- 
ally rose  to  despair  and  insanity ;  and  at  length,  after  having 
appeared  at  Naples,  he  committed  suicide  by  throwing  him- 
self from  the  window  of  his  room.  Dujjrez,  on  the  other  hand, 
rose  at  once  to  the  height  of  Parisian  favor.  Guillaimie  Tell 
was  revived  for  his  debut,  Madame  Dorus  Gras  taking  the 
part  originally  written  for  Madame  Damoreau ;  and  never,  it 
Avas  remarked,  had  the  superb  duet  in  the  second  act  produced 
such  an  effect  as  when  sang  by  Dorus  Gras  and  Duprez. 

Halevy's  Guido  e  Ginevra  was  brought  forward  March  3, 
1838,  and  Mdlle.  Falcon  was  to  have  been  the  leading  person- 
age in  that  opera ;  but  she  had  lost  her  voice,  and  was  on  her 
way  to  Italy,  so  Madame  Dorus  Gras  had  to  take  the  j^art. 
She  could  hardly  have  found  one  less  adapted  to  her  powers 
than  Ginevra,  for  passionate  characters  were  not  suited  either 
to  her  talent  or  her  person.  Guido  e  Ginevra  was  not  re- 
ceived with  an  ovation,  in  spite  of  the  singing  of  Duprez. 


i 


JUXIE   DORUS   GRAS.  321 

In  May,  1839,  Madame  Dorus  Gras,  accompanied  by  her 
brother,  appeared  in  London,  at  the  Philharmonic  and  other 
first-class  concerts,  with  Tamburini,  Mario,  Madame  Albertaz- 
zi,  etc. 

During  the  summer  Madame  Dorus  Gras  appeared  again  in 
London,  singing  at  concerts.  At  the  close  of  the  fashionable 
musical  season  she  undertook  a  series  of  concerts  around  En- 
gland with  Tamburini,  Brizzi,  M.  Lavevi6re  the  harpist,  and 
her  brother,  commencing  at  York,  and  finishing,  September  6, 
at  Gloucester.  In  1842  she  received  pressing  invitations  to 
come  to  London,  which  the  state  of  her  health  compelled  her 
to  refuse.  From  this  time,  however,  she  was  in  the  habit  of 
coming  almost  every  year;  and  in  1844  she  went  to  Dublin. 

Modest,  miassuming,  and  never  intriguing,  Madame  Dorus 
Gras  greatly  disliked  and  dreaded  the  continual  cabals  and 
plottings,  of  which  she  was  not  only  the  witness,  but  frequent- 
ly the  victim,  though  no  rival  had  ever  been  able  to  dethrone 
her;  and  she  determined  to  retire  from  the  scene  of  these 
mingled  triumphs  and  mortifications.  She  gave  her  farewell 
performance  at  the  Academic,  May,'l815,  singing  for  the  last 
time  in  Robert  le  Diable  and  Le  jRossig?iol.  The  farewell  was 
brilliant ;  the  public  testified  their  sympathy  by  unbounded 
applause  and  showers  of  wreaths  and  bouquets,  and  the  Queen 
of  the  French  sent  her  a  superb  bracelet,  accompanied  by  a 
flattering  letter  as  a  testimony  of  personal  esteem. 

After  visiting  London  in  1846,  Madame  Dorus  Gras  went  to 
Dijon,  Brest,  Nantes,  and  other  places.  She  returned  to  Lon- 
don in  the  summer  of  1847.  In  the  winter  of  that  year,  M.  Jul- 
lien  commenced  his  attempt  at  Grand  Opera  at  Drury  Lane, 
and  oflered  an  engagement  as  prima  donna  to  Madame  Dorus 
Gras,  with  a  salary  of  £2000.  The  only  impediment  to  her 
accepting  the  offer  was  that  she  knew  not  a  word  of  English ; 
however,  she  set  to  work,  and  contrived  to  master  the  libret- 
to of  the  Bride  of  Laramermoor,  in  which  opera  she  appeared 
December  13th,  with  Mr.  Sims  Reeves  and  Mr.  Weiss.  There 
was  great  curiosity  to  hear  this  favorite  of  the  concert-room, 
and  at  first  she  was  much  liked  for  her  easy,  graceful  style 
and  brilliant  singing,  in  spite  of  the  perceptible  defects  of  her 
English  pronunciation  ;  but  she  either  would  not  or  could  not 
learn  another  libretto,  and  was  obliged  to  withdraw,  which 
was  one  cause  of  the  ruin  of  Jullien's  Grand  Opera  scheme. 
21  0  2 


322 


QUEENS    OF   SONG. 


In  1849  Madame  Dorus  Gras  appeared  at  the  Royal  Italian 
Opera  with  Mario,  Massol,  Tagliafico,  Salvi,  Mdlle.  Corbari,  etc. 
She  performed  in  Masaniello^  Boherto  il  Diavolo^  and  other 
modern  French  operas.  She  was  much  admired,  though  most 
English  critics  objected  to  her  tendency  to  display  her  extra- 
ordinary vocal  fluency  in  extravagant  embellishment. 

Madame  Dorus  Gras  is  at  present  residing  in  Paris. 


CORNELIE   FALCON.  323 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

COKNELIE     FALCON. 

CoENELiE  Falcon  was  the  daughter  of  a  Parisian  trades- 
man, and  having  early  evinced  a  taste  for  music,  she  was 
placed  in  the  Conservatoire,  where  she  received  instruction 
from  Pellegrini  and  Bordogni.  An  earnest,  attentive  student, 
she  succeeded  in  carrying  off  several  prizes.  On  leaving  the 
Conservatoire,  she  sang  at  various  concerts,  where  she  was 
but  little  noticed.  At  last,  thi-ough  the  influence  of  Adolphe 
Nourrit,  she  obtained  an  opportunity  of  making  her  debut  at 
the  Academic.  Mohert  leDlahle  was  revived  for  the  occasion, 
and  she  appeared  Friday,  July  20,  1832,  with  Nourrit  and 
Mdlle.  Dorus. 

The  lights,  the  crowd,  the  buzz,  and  the  novelty  of  her  sftu- 
ation  at  first  alarmed  Cornelie.  Like  every  debutante  who 
stej^ped  on  the  boards  of  the  Grand  Ojiera,  the  young  song- 
stress trembled  as  she  emerged  from  the  wings  in  her  charac- 
ter of  Alice,  and  her  voice  faltered ;  but,  gathering  courage, 
she  sang  her  first  air  with  success.  Encouraged  by  this,  she 
became  more  animated,  and  at  last  succeeded  in  fixing  the  at- 
tention of  the  audience. 

Her  voice  was  full  and  resonant,  especially  in  the  upper  and 
middle  notes,  and  was  of  great  compass,  and  her  intonation 
was  good,  though  as  yet  far  from  perfect.  Her  accents  Avere 
toucliing ;  for  she  sang,  like  Rubini,  with  des  larmes  dans  la 
voix.  Her  figure  was  well  formed,  tall  and  slender,  and  she 
had  the  complexion  of  a  Spaniard  of  pure  blood,  Avith  black 
sparkling  eyes;  her  hands  were  rather  large,  but  finely  shaped. 

"  She  indeed  was  a  person  to  haunt  even  a  passing  stranger," 
says  Mr.  Chorley,  in  his  Music  and  Manners.  "  Though  the 
seal  of  her  race  was  upon  her  beauty,  and  it  bore  the  expres- 
sion of  a  Deborah  or  a  Judith  rather  than  of  a  Melpomene,  I 
have  never  seen  an  actress  who  in  look  and  gesture  so  well 
deserved  the  title  of  the  Muse  of  Modern  Tragedy.  Large, 
dark,  melancholy  eyes  —  a  form,  though  slight,  not  meagre  — 


324  QUEENS    OF   SONG. 

and,  above  all,  an  expressiveness  of  tone  rarely  to  be  found  in 
voices  of  her  register,  which  was  a  legitimate  soprano  —  the 
power  of  engaging  interest  by  mere  glance  and  step  when  first 
she  presented  herself,  and  of  exciting  the  strongest  emotions 
of  pity,  or  terror,  or  suspense  by  the  passion  she  could  develop 
in  action — such  were  her  gifts." 

The  originality  of  her  style,  her  fervor,  her  grandeur,  her 
dignity,  her  impassioned  energy,  and  the  beauty  of  her  voice, 
raised  Cornelie  Falcon  at  one  step  to  a  high  position.  "  This 
little  girl  from  the  Conservatoire,"  says  Jules  Janin,  speaking 
of  her  debut,  "  bathed  in  tears  men  who  have  almost  grown 
weary  of  dramatic  emotions.     She  astonished  us." 

After  some  eleven  or  twelve  representations,  the  perform- 
ance of  Rohert  le  Diahle  was  suspended,  Mdlle.  Falcon  having 
fallen  ill.  Meyerbeer,  who  had  hastened  to  Paris,  was  bitterly 
disappointed  at  being  unable  to  see  this  new  Alice.  It  was 
not  before  September  that  she  was  suflaciently  recovered  to 
resume  her  performances. 

In  Auber's  Gustave^y^hich.  was  produced  February  27, 1838, 
Mdlle.  Falcon  had  the  opportunity  of  creating  a  new  charac- 
ter. Unfortunately,  the  part  of  the  Countess  Amelie,  with  its 
powder  and  hoops,  and  pretty  coquetry,  was  not  suited  to  the 
dark  and  mystic  style  of  Cornelie.  "  Alas,  Mdlle.  Falcon !" 
cried  Jules  Janin ;  "  this  young  creature,  of  such  great  hopes, 
sang  without  voice,  without  expression,  without  exertion,  with- 
out energy,  without  point."  She  was  stifled  amid  the  mad 
gayety,  the  whirl  of  the  dancers,  the  glare  and  splendor  of  the 
scenes.  The  singers  in  Gustave  indeed  were  "  nowhere ;"  the 
dancers  reigned  supreme. 

"  I  believe,"  says  Jules  Janin,  "  that  never,  even  at  the  Op- 
era, was  seen  a  spectacle  more  grand,  more  rich,  more  curious, 
more  magnificent,  than  the  fifth  act  of  Gustave.  It  is  a  fairy- 
land of  beautiful  women,  of  gauze,  of  velvet,  of  grotesqueness, 
of  elegance,  of  good  taste  and  of  bad  taste,  of  details,  of  learn- 
ed researches,  of  esprit,  of  madness  and  of  whimsicality  —  of 
every  thing,  in  a  word,  which  is  suggestive  of  the  eighteenth 
century.  When  the  beautiful  curtain  is  raised,  you  find  your- 
self in  an  immense  ballroom."  The  stage  of  the  Grand  Opera, 
the  largest  in  Paris,  is  admirably  adapted  for  masked  balls, 
and  the  side-scenes  being  removed,  the  stage  was  surrounded 
by  a  salon,  the  decorations  of  which  corresponded  with  those 


CORNELIE  FALCON.  325 

of  the  boxes.  "  This  salle  de  bal  is  overlooked  by  boxes,  these 
boxes  are  filled  with  masks,  who  play  the  part  of  spectators. 
At  their  feet,  constantly  moving,  is  the  circling  crowd,  dis- 
guised in  every  imaginable  costume,  and  dominoes  of  every 
conceivable  hue.  Harlequins  of  all  fashions,  clowns,  peddlers, 
what  shall  I  say  ?  One  presents  the  appearance  of  a  tub,  an- 
other of  a  guitar ;  his  neighbor  is  disguised  en  botte  (Tasperges  ; 
that  one  is  a  mirror,  this  a  fish  ;  there  is  a  bird,  here  is  a  time- 
piece— you  can  hardly  imagine  the  infinite  confusion.  Peas- 
ants, marquises,  princes,  monks,  I  know  not  what,  mingle  in 
one  rainbow -hued  crowd.  It  is  impossible  to  describe  this 
endless  madness,  this  whirl,  this  hizarrerie,  on  which  the  rays 
of  two  thousand  wax  tapers,  in  their  crystal  lustres,  pour  an 
inundation  of  mellow  light.  I,  who  am  so  well  accustomed  to 
spectacles  like  this  —  I,  who  am,  unfortunately,  not  easily  dis- 
posed to  be  surprised  —  I  am  yet  dazzled  with  this  radiant 
scene." 

Cornelie  Falcon  took  her  revenge  in  Don  Giovanni^  which 
was  produced  about  June  with  extraordinary  magnificence. 
She  sang  with  Nourrit,  Levasseur,  Madame  Damoreau,  and 
Mile.  Dorus.  As  Donna  Anna  she  was  superb,  and  redeemed 
herself  so  far  from  the  failure  she  had  made  in  Gustave^  that 
when  All  Baba  was  brought  out  in  July,  Cherubini  gave  her 
the  part  of  Morgiana ;  but  here  Mdlle.  Falcon  found  herself 
again  hampered  with  a  character  unfitted  for  her,  and  in  which 
she  had  nothing  to  sing.  Her  great  triumph  was  reserved  till 
February  23,  1835,  when  La  Jidve  was  produced.  This  was 
the  last  work  M.  Veron  put  on  the  stage.  The  scenery  of  ia 
Juivei^v  exceeded  in  splendor  any  thing  that  had  been  brought 
out  at  the  Parisian  Opera.  The  magnificence  of  mediaeval  cos- 
tume was  realized  in  the  richness,  variety,  and  accuracy  of  the 
dresses.  Mdlle.  Falcon  was  touching  in  Rachel ;  she  looked 
the  resolved,  passionate,  pensive  Jewish  maiden,  and  trans- 
formed the  pale  sketch  of  M.  Scribe  into  a  beautiful  finished 
picture.  Malibran  herself  applauded  Mdlle.  Falcon  in  this 
part. 

But  her  reputation  rests  mainly  on  her  performance  in  Les 
Huguenots^  which  also  combined  the  talents  of  Madame  Dorus 
Gras,  Nourrit,  and  Levasseur. 

At  rehearsal,  Nourrit,  a  keen  critic  and  an  intelligent  mu- 
sician, gave  Meyerbeer  several  valuable  hints,  especially  in  the 


326  QUEENS    OP   SONG. 

fourth  act.  He  counseled  the  withdrawal  of  the  Queen  from 
the  conspiracy  scene,  as  the  presence  of  another  woman,  he 
suggested,  would  weaken  the  interest  attached  to  the  situation 
of  Valentine.  Meyerbeer  had  terminated  the  act  with  the 
"Benediction  des  Poignards,"  but  Nourrit  proposed  that  this 
should  be  followed  by  a  duet.  Meyerbeer  hesitated :  after 
such  a  chorus,  it  was  imj^ossible.  Nevertheless,  Nourrit  per- 
sisted ;  and  Meyerbeer,  vexed  and  i;neasy,  went  home,  and 
consulted  M.  Gouin,  his  landlord  and  factotum.  Could  Scribe 
be  induced  to  make  any  more  altei'ations  ?  Gouin  suggested 
another  plan,  to  which  Meyerbeer  agreed.  It  was  eleven 
o'clock  at  night,  but  Gouin  rushed  off  to  the  Rue  Lepelletier, 
where  he  discovered  Emile  Deschamps,  the  poet,  absorbed  in 
a  game  of  dominoes.  Emile  obligingly  left  his  game,  dashed 
off  a  set  of  verses,  nodded  "  Good-night,"  and  returned  to  his 
friends. 

Meyerbeer,  on  receiving  the  verses,  flew  to  the  piano,  and 
composed  a  duo  finale,  and  early  next  morning  he  knocked  at 
Nourrit's  door  with  the  music  in  his  hand.  Nourrit  was  de- 
lighted, and  threw  himself  into  Meyerbeer's  arms.  Two  days 
after  the  score  was  ready,  and  each  musician  found  on  his  desk 
a  new  duet  for  Raoul  and  Valentine.  "  Then  there  was  anoth- 
er scene,"  says  M.  de  Mirecourt,  one  of  the  biographers  of 
Meyerbeer ;  "  for,  after  the  execution  of  the  morceau  at  re- 
hearsal, frantic  applause  thundered  from  the  orchestra,  Habe- 
nech  clambered  on  the  stage  to  congratulate  the  maestro; 
Nourrit,  Mdlle.  Falcon,  and  all  the  musicians  followed  their 
chief,  and  Meyerbeer  was  saluted  with  acclamations.  Never 
was  ovation  more  magnificent  or  more  spontaneous." 

This  fourth  act  of  Les  Huguenots  is  universally  admitted  to 
be  one  of  the  grandest  successes  of  the  composer.  "  Save  in 
the  two  last  acts,"  said  George  Sand,  writing  to  Meyerbeer, 
"  the  character  of  Raoul,  with  all  your  skill,  is  unable  to  rise 
from  the  weight  of  commonplace  insipidity  with  which  M. 
Scribe  has  laden  it.  Even  Nourrit's  true  sensibility  and  rare 
intelligence  contend  in  vain  against  the  sentimental  and  silly 
nonentity  of  the  hero,  who  is  '  a  thorough  victim  to  circum- 
stances,' as  the  romance  writers  phrase  it.  But  how  the  part 
rises  in  the  fourth  act ;  how  it  tells  in  the  great  scene,  Avhich 
(prudery  and  objection  put  aside)  I  find  so  pathetic,  so  in- 
tensely mournful,  so  fearful,  so  any  thing  rather  than  Anacre- 


CORNELIE  FALCON.  327 

ontic !  What  a  duet !  What  a  dialogue !  How  has  the  mu- 
sician wept,  implored,  raved,  and  conquered,  where  the  author 
should  have  done  it?  Oh,  maestro,  you  are  a  noble,  truthful 
poet,  an  arch  romancer !" 

As  Valentine,  Mdlle.  Falcon  surpassed  herself.  Her  beauty, 
her  passionate  intensity,  the  life  and  color  which  she  threw 
into  the  part,  elicited  universal  acclamations.  One  night,  a  few 
weeks  after  the  production  of  this  opera,  Malibran  quitted  her 
box  to  embrace  Mdlle.  Falcon,  and  thank  her,  with  deep  feel- 
ing, for  the  pleasure  she  had  given  her  in  Les  Huguenots. 

March  3,  1837,  Stradella.,  by  Niedermeyer,  was  produced, 
Mdlle.  Falcon,  Nourrit,  and  Levasseur  takiug  the  first  parts. 
On  the  first  of  April,  Nourrit  retired  from  the  scene  of  his  tri- 
umphs. He  selected  one  act  of  Gliick's  Armide,  and  the  three 
last  acts  of  ies  Huguenots.  The  farewell  was  a  melancholy 
one.  The  house  was  crowded  almost  to  sufibcation,  but  "  the 
audience  was  joyless  and  even  sad."  One  of  the  most  signal 
proofs  of  his  great  talent  which  Nourrit  had  ever  displayed 
was  in  being  able,  during  five  hours,  to  control  the  profound 
emotion  by  which  he  was  agitated. 

Soon  after  this  Mdlle.  Falcon,  who  had  suffered  from  fatigue 
and  the  exertion  she  had  undergone  for  five  years,  found  her 
vocal  powers  failing  hei",  and  one  night,  in  Stradella,  her  voice 
suddenly  left  her :  the  curtain  was  lowered  and  the  audience 
dismissed.  Her  vocal  malady  excited  the  most  lively  sympa- 
thy; perhaps  the  more  keen,  as  there  was  no  one  to  replace 
her.  Every  means  was  suggested  to  eflect  a  restoration  of 
her  vocal  powers,  and  the  artiste  did  not  lose  her  courage : 
she  left  her  cure  to  time  and  the  faculty,  hoping  against  hope 
that  she  might  yet  be  able  to  sing  for  some  time  to  come. 
After  an  absence  of  some  weeks  she  reappeared  with  Duprez 
in  Zes  Huguenots.  Her  voice  had  never  been  more  pure, 
more  vibrating ;  the  only  alteration  observable  was  that  it 
seemed  changing  from  a  legitimate  soprano  to  a  decided  con- 
tralto. 

Early  in  1838  she  left  for  Italy,  where  her  energies  revived, 
but  only  for  a  short  time.  She  was  beloved  by  her  comrades, 
and  a  great  favorite  with  the  public,  so  that  when  she  an- 
nounced her  reappearance  for  March  14, 1839,  there  was  great 
rejoicing  among  her  partisans.  She  chose  for  her  benefit  the 
second  act  of  -La  Juive,  and  the  fourth  of  Zes  Huguenots, 


328  QUEENS    OF   SONG. 

and  was  supported  by  Duprez,  Massol,  and  Madame  Dorus 
Gras.  The  theatre  was  crowded :  it  was,  a  French  writer 
says,  like  a  family  gathering  to  welcome  the  return  of  the  voix 
procUgue.  When  the  beneficiaire  appeared  the  house  rang 
with  acclamations,  but  the  illusion  was  not  of  long  duration. 
Some  notes,  by  accident,  yet  remained  pure,  but  the  others 
were  either  veiled,  stifled,  or  cracked. 

"  At  first,  firm  and  calm,  Mdlle.  Falcon  assisted  without  fal- 
tering at  the  spectacle  of  her  own  agony,"  says  Charles  de 
Boigne ;  "  but  soon  the  general  emotion  infected  her,  her  tears 
gushed  forth,  and  her  despair  was  evidenced  in  convulsive 
sobs,  which  redoubled  the  applause  still  more,  the  last  homage 
to  a  fine  talent  which  had  ceased  to  exist.  Leaning  on  the 
shoulder  of  Duprez,  she  remained  some  instants  absorbed  in 
grief,  but  then  courageously  resumed  her  duty :  as  she  had 
commenced  her  part,  she  was  resolved  to  finish  it.  As  Rachel 
she  accomplished  her  painful  task,  but  as  Valentine  she  had 
yet  to  drink  the  bitter  chalice  of  failure  to  the  dregs.  When 
she  returned  in  the  fourth  act  of  Les  Huguenots^  the  music 
dragged  painfully  between  the  dying  gasps  of  Valentine  and 
the  bravos  arrested  by  the  sight  of  so  terrible  a  misfortune." 
The  phrase  "Nuit  fatale,  nuit  d'alarmes,  je  n'ai  plus  d'avenir," 
contained  an  allusion  to  her  situation  so  poignant  that  the  ill- 
fated  cantatrice  was  scarcely  able  to  pronounce  them. 

Such  a  desperate,  agonizing  struggle  of  Art  against  Nature 
has  seldom  been  witnessed.  The  magnificent  voice  of  Corne- 
lie  Falcon  had  fled.  Her  beauty,  her  talent,  her  constant  will- 
ingness to  oblige — these  qualities  had  endeared  her  to  the  pub- 
lic. "  Add  to  these  the  charms  of  her  youth,  the  love  borne 
to  her  by  all  her  comrades,  and  the  loss  of  her  voice,  followed 
by  the  almost  desperate  efibrts  made  by  her  to  recover  it," 
says  Mr.  Chorley,  "  and  her  disastrous  final  appearance  when 
no  force  of  will  could  torture  destroyed  nature  into  even  a 
momentary  resuscitation,  make  up  one  of  those  tragedies  into 
which  a  fearful  sum  of  wrecked  hope,  and  despair,  and  anguish 
enters.  Hers  is  a  histoiy,  if  all  tales  be  true,  too  dark  to  be 
repeated,  even  with  the  honest  purpose,  not  of  pandering  to 
an  evil  curiosity,  but  of  pointing  out  the  snares  and  pitfalls 
which  lie  in  wait  for  the  artiste,  and  of  inquiring,  for  the  sake 
of  art  as  well  as  of  humanity  (the  two  are  inseparable),  if  there 
be  no  protection  against  them,  no  means  for  their  avoidance." 


COENELIE   FALCON.  329 

In  1840  the  Home  Minister  granted  to  Mdlle.  Falcon  a  pen- 
sion of  sixty  pounds  a  year. 

In  1841  it  was  said  that  Mdlle.  Falcon,  with  Madame  Damo- 
reau,  was  among  the  stars  who  sang  at  St.  Petersburg,  and 
that  her  reception  was  most  flattering  —  that  she  had  com- 
pletely recovered  her  beautiful  voice.  The  rumor,  however, 
was  never  confirmed.  Some  say  that  Mdlle.  Falcon  is  at  St. 
Petersburg,  others  that  she  resides  at  Paris,  others  again  that 
she  is  no  longer  living. 


330  QUEENS   OF   SONG. 


CHAPTER  XXVn. 

MAEIA   FELICITA   MALIBEAN. 

Maeia  Felicita  Malibean,  the  Gabrielli  of  modern  days, 
was  born  March  24,  1808,  in  the  Rue  de  Marivaux,  Paris. 
Her  father,  Manuel  Garcia,  member  of  a  respectable  Hebrew 
family,  was  a  Spaniard,  and  had  been  for  many  years  a  popular 
actor  and  singer  at  the  Prince's  Theatre,  Madrid.  Being  am- 
bitious, he  left  his  native  country  and  visited  Paris,  where  his 
talent  as  a  composer,  and  a  teacher,  and  an  artiste  of  rare 
ability  were  recognized — as  Count  Almaviva,  Otello,  above  all, 
as  Don  Giovanni,  he  was  unsurpassed.  His  wife,  Joaquina 
Sitcher,  had,  under  the  name  of  Briones,  obtained  much  suc- 
cess in  the  great  parts  of  the  Spanish  stage. 

At  the  age  of  four  years  Maria  accompanied  her  family  to 
Italy,  whither  her  father  was  going  to  study,  and  at  Naples, 
in  1813,  she  played  the  part  of  the  child  in  her  friend  Paer's 
Agnese,  at  the  Theatre  des  Fiorentini.  Two  years  after,  M. 
Panseron,  with  whom  the  family  became  acquainted  in  Na- 
ples, taught  her  solfeggio,  and  the  composer  Herold,  coming 
to  this  city  about  the  same  time,  gave  her  the  first  lessons  on 
the  piano-forte.  In  1816  Garcia  quitted  Italy  and  returned  to 
Paris,  having  accepted  an  engagement  from  Madame  Catalani 
at  the  Theatre  Italien ;  but  a  misunderstanding  having  arisen, 
he  left  Paris  and  came  to  London  in  the  spring  of  1818.  i 

Maria  was  a  delicate,  sickly,  sensitive  child,  and  the  early 
years  of  her  life  were  sad  and  painful.  Shortly  after  coming  to 
England  she  was  placed  for  education  in  the  convent  at  Ham- 
mersmith, where,  caressed  by  her  teachers  and  elder  school- 
fellows, and  led  away  by  her  vivacity  and  willful  temper,  she 
would  probably  have  in  time  been  completely  spoiled ;  but  her 
father  soon  removed  her,  that  she  might  commence  her  music- 
al education.  Already  Maria  spoke  with  ease  Si^anish,  Italian, 
and  French ;  she  soon  became  familiar  with  English,  and  aft- 
erward she  learned  German. 

The  temper  of  Garcia  was  rough,  violent,  and  irritable,  and 


MADAME  GABCIA  MALIBBAS. 


MARIA   FELICITA   MALIBRAN".  333 

his  behavior  to  his  own  family  was  not  particularly  consider- 
ate. One  day,  desiring  to  give  a  visitor  some  idea  of  a  piece 
which  he  had  recently  composed,  he  roared  out  with  all  the 
strength  of  his  lungs,  "  La  Faraigiia !"  when  his  wife,  son,  and 
daughter  immediately  trooped  in ;  then,  no  sooner  had  the 
composition  been  performed  than  they  retired.  At  a  perform- 
ance at  the  Catholic  Chapel  in  Warwick  Street,  the  Garcia 
family  were  to  sing  an  Offertorium  composed  by  the  patriarch, 
"  and  a  fearful  wailing  the  poor  things  made  of  it ;  when  the 
father,  unable  to  endure  the  noise,  broke  in  and  bore  all  before 
him  with  the  furious  roar  of  his  voice."  On  another  occasion 
he,  with  his  wife,  son,  and  daughter,  sang  some  quartettes  to- 
gether, when  poor  Maria,  being  just  in  front  of  her  father,  was 
in  a  position  to  tempt  him  to  accompany  with  a  cruel  blow  on 
the  face  every  fault  she  committed. 

Garcia  was  determined  that  no  effort  should  be  spared  to 
make  his  daughter  what  Nature  had  apparently  resolved  she 
should  never  be — a  great  vocalist ;  and  on  returning  to  France 
in  November,  1819,  he  commenced  his  course  of  training.  lie 
was  unable  to  comprehend  how  any  one  could  be  overcome  by 
doubt,  indolence,  or  timidity ;  he  never  could  hear  the  words 
"I  can  not"  without  an  expression  of  rage  and  scorn,  and  was 
resolved  that  his  daughter  should  be  reared  in  thorough  con- 
tempt for  "  the  weakness  of  the  sex."  The  child,  however, 
on  her  part,  was  intelligent,  firm,  and  resolute,  and  had  pro- 
digious instincts  for  art,  but  was  terribly  afraid  of  her  father. 
Her  vocal  qualifications,  however,  seemed  very  unpromising; 
her  voice  was  weak,  the  lower  notes  imperfectly  developed, 
the  upper  tones  indifferent  in  quality,  hard,  and  thin,  and  the 
middle  much  veiled ;  above  all,  her  intonation  was  so  doubt- 
ful that  there  was  a  reasonable  apprehension  of  her  ear  being 
defective.  Sometimes  she  would  sing  so  frightfully  out  of 
tune  that  her  father  would  quit  the  piano  precipitately,  and 
run  to  the  farthest  corner  of  the  house,  Avhile  she,  distracted 
with  fear,  yet  feeling  within  her  the  sparks  of  genius  which 
were  one  day  to  burst  into  a  flame,  would  fly  after  him,  and, 
seizing  him  by  the  coat,  weeping  bitterly,  would  supplicate 
him  to  recommence. 

"  One  evening  I  studied  a  duet  with  Maria,"  says  the  Count- 
ess Merlin,  "  in  which  Garcia  had  Avritten  a  passage,  and  he 
desired  her  to  execute  it.     She  tried,  but  became  discouraged, 


334  QUEENS    OF   SONG. 

and  said, '  I  can  not.'  In  an  instant  the  Andalusian  blood  of 
her  father  rose.  He  fixed  his  flashing  eyes  upon  her :  '  What 
did  you  say  ?'  Maria  looked  at  him,  trembled,  and,  clasping 
her  hands,  murmured  in  a  stifled  voice, '  I  will  do  it,  papa ;' 
and  she  executed  the  passage  perfectly.  She  told  me  after- 
ward that  she  could  not  conceive  how  she  did  it.  'Papa's 
glance,'  added  she, '  has  such  an  influence  upon  me  that  I  am 
sure  it  would  make  me  fling  myself  from  the  roof  into  the 
street  without  doing  myself  any  harm.' " 

She  was  a  passionate,  wayward  child,  but  generous  and  ar- 
dent ;  apt  to  fly  into  paroxysms  of  anger,  but  ever  ready  to 
entreat  forgiveness,  and  atone  for  any  injustice  she  might  have 
inflicted.  She  was  irresistibly  charming,  frank,  bold,  and  orig- 
inal, though  impulsive,  obstinate,  and  willful.  "Her  proud 
and  stubborn  spirit  requires  a  hand  of  iron  to  control  it,"  said 
her  father.  "  Maria  can  never  become  great  save  at  the  price 
of  sufiering."  This  was  true,  for  she  was  a  terrible  little  vixen, 
though  her  faults  were  all  inherited  from  him.  By  the  time 
she  Avas  fifteen,  Maria's  voice  had  greatly  improved ;  her  chest- 
notes  had  gained  in  depth,  power,  and  richness,  but  the  other 
parts  of  her  organ  were  still  crude  and  veiled.  She  left  with 
her  family  for  England,  and  made  her  first  appearance  as  one 
of  the  chorus  at  the  King's  Theatre. 

In  1825,  when  Maria  was  seventeen,  a  sudden  indisposition 
of  Madame  Pasta  alarmed  Mr.  Ayrton,  the  manager,  and  Gar- 
cia ofiered  the  services  of  his  daughter.  On  the  l7th  of  June 
she  appeared  as  Rosina,  in  II  Barhiere  di  Seviglia,  and  gave 
abundant  evidence  of  talent.  "Her  extreme  youth,"  said  Lord 
Mount  Edgecumbe,  "  her  prettiness,  her  pleasing  voice,  and 
sprightly,  easy  action,  gained  her  general  favor."  She  was 
immediately  engaged  for  the  rest  of  the  season,  six  weeks,  at 
a  salary  of  £500.  On  the  23d  of  July  she  sang  the  part  of 
Felicia,  in  the  first  representation  oill  Crociato^  by  Meyerbeer, 
which  was  brought  forward  by  Velluti,  the  eminent  male  so- 
prano, at  the  end  of  the  season,  and  produced  after  one  month's 
rehearsal.  There  was  a  foolish  attempt  to  force  Maria  on  the 
public  as  a  prima  donna  when  she  was  only  a  very  promising 
debutante,  and  the  most  injudicious  alterations  were  made  for 
the  pin-pose;  the  scena  and  rondo  for  Felicia  —  "Ah!  ch'io 
I'adoro  ancor"  —  was  omitted,  and  a  song  written  by  Garcia 
substituted.     This  substitution  was  not  made  known  till  the 


MAEIA  FELICITA   MALIBRAN.  335 

last  rehearsal,  which  took  place  the  night  before  the  opera  was 
produced ;  and  on  Ayrton  remonstrating,  Garcia  asserted  that 
the  engagement  of  his  daughter  gave  him  the  option  of  chang- 
ing at  pleasure  any  songs  allotted  to  hei*. 

If  her  father  was  ambitious  and  daring,  Maria  was  so  like- 
wise. She  had  to  sing  with  Velluti  a  duet  in  Zingarelli's  Bo- 
rneo e  GiuUetta,  and  in  the  morning  they  rehearsed  it  together, 
Velluti  reserving  his  fioriture  for  the  evening,  lest  the  young 
debutante  should  endeavor  to  imitate  his  ornaments.  In  the 
evening  he  sang  his  solo  part,  embroidering  it  with  the  most 
florid  decorations,  and  finishing  with  a  new  and  beautiful  ca- 
denza, which  astonished  and  charmed  the  audience;  Maria 
seized  the  phrases,  to  which  she  imparted  an  additional  grace, 
and  crowned  her  triumph  with  an  audacious  and  superb  im- 
provisation. Thunders  of  applause  gi'eeted  her,  and  while 
trembling  with  excitement  she  felt  her  arm  grasped  by  a  hand 
of  iron.  "  Briccona !"  hissed  a  voice  in  her  eai',  as  Velluti 
glared  on  her,  gnashing  his  teeth  with  rage. 

After  performing  in  London,  she  appeared  in  the  autumn 
with  her  father  at  the  Manchester,  York,  and  Liverpool  Festi- 
vals, where  she  sang  some  of  the  most  difiicult  pieces  from  the 
Messiah  and  the  Creation.  Some  said  that  she  failed,  others 
that  she  sang  with  a  degree  of  mingled  brilliancy,  delicacy, 
and  sweetness  that  drew  down  a  storm  of  applause.  It  is 
certain  that  her  talents  were  so  little  appreciated  by  her  father, 
and  her  success  was  so  little  variable,  that  she  was  almost  on 
the  point  of  marrying  an  orchestral  performer  of  the  humblest 
pretensions. 

Garcia  at  this  time  conceived  a  project  for  establishing  an 
Italian  Opera  in  America,  though  his  company  was  a  misera- 
ble one,  as  he  depended  chiefly  on  himself,  his  wife,  his  son, 
and  daughter.  The  first  opera  represented  was  II  Barhiere, 
on  the  29tli  of  November,  1825,  in  which  Maria  had  made  her 
debut  in  London ;  this  was  followed  by  Tancredi  and  Otello 
(Maria  playing  Desdemona  to  her  father's  Moor),  by  II  Turco 
in  Italia.,  Don  Giovanni.,  Cenerentola,  and  two  operas  com- 
posed by  Garcia — I^Amante  Asttito  and  la  Figlia  deW  Aria. 
The  inefiiciency  of  his  corps,  vocal  and  instrumental,  nearly 
drove  Garcia  to  distraction ;  and  one  evening,  Bon  Giovanni 
being  the  opera,  he  was  so  transported  with  fury  at  the  man- 
ner in  which  the  orchestra  gave  the  finale  to  the  first  act,  that 


336  QUEENS   OF   SONG. 

he  rushed,  sword  in  hand,  to  the  foot-hghts,  and  compelled 
them  to  recommence. 

The  young  Maria's  success  was  extraordinary.  The  New 
York  writers  were  in  a  perfect  delirium  of  admiration.  Her 
fresh,  lovely  voice  was  declared  to  be  miraculous,  and  her 
beauty  bewildering,  while  her  amazing  vivacity  astonished 
them.  The  public  were  dehghted,  and  her  popularity  was 
greatly  heightened  by  her  execution  of  English  songs,  one  of 
which  she  generally  sung  every  evening.  "The  demand  for 
these  increased  to  such  an  extent,  that,  when  performing  one 
night  in  Otello^  she  was  called  upon  by  the  audience  to  sing 
'Home,  sweet  home,'  and,  with  all  the  good-humor  imaginable, 
she  instantly  complied  with  the  request." 

Shortly  after  her  arrival,  M.  Franyois  Eugene  Malibran,  a 
French  merchant  settled  at  New  York,  solicited  her  hand. 
He  was  fifty,  Maria  was  seventeen ;  but  the  poor  girl  was  al- 
ready tired  of  her  laborious  life,  and  still  more  so  of  her  fa- 
ther's temper.  Garcia  refused  his  consent ;  but  her  stubborn 
will  had  been  rendered  more  unmanageable  by  oi^position,  and 
poor  Madame  Garcia,  mild  and  amiable,  vainly  strove  to  act  as 
mediator.  One  evening  Otello  was  to  be  performed.  Maria, 
of  course,  was  the  Desdemona,  and  her  father  the  Moor.  The 
morning  had  been  a  stormy  one  between  father  and  daughter. 
At  the  moment  when  Othello,  his  brow  lowering,  his  eyes 
sparkling  Avith  rage,  ajDproached  to  stab  Desdemona,  Maria 
perceived  that  the  weapon  which  glittered  in  his  hand  was  a 
real  dagger,  which  her  father  had  bought  of  a  Turk  some  few 
days  previously.  Struck  with  terror  and  almost  frantic,  she 
cried  in  Spanish, "  Papa,  papa !  for  the  love  of  God  do  not  kill 
me !"  Her  fear  Avas  groundless :  the  dagger  of  the  theatre 
having  been  mislaid,  Garcia  substituted  his  own.  The  audi- 
ence took  the  matter  in  good  part,  and  fancied  Desdemona's 
exclamation  in  Spanish  was  excellent  Italian. 

M.  Malibran  was  magnificent  in  his  promises.  He  assured 
her  she  should  be  independent,  and  vowed  to  Garcia  that  he 
would  make  him  a  present  of  a  hundred  thousand  francs  in  a 
year  or  two  for  the  loss  of  the  services  of  his  daughter.  As 
he  Avas  believed  to  be  very  wealthy,  Garcia  yielded,  and  the 
ill-matched  pair  were  married  on  the  23d  of  March,  1826.  A 
few  weeks  later  Malibran  became  bankrupt  and  a  prisoner  for 
debt:  his  irregularities  and  imprudences,  perhaps  his  igno- 


MARIA   FELICITA  MALIBEAX.  337 

ranee  and  incapacity,  had  brought  hira  to  ruin.  The  young 
bride  immediately  and  vohmtarily  resigned,  for  the  benefit  of 
the  creditors,  any  claims  which  she  might  have  advanced  on 
the  strength  of  the  settlements  which  were  made,  an  act  which 
was  highly  aj^plauded  by  the  American  public. 

Garcia  was  furious,  and  his  rage  almost  uncontrollable ;  and 
he,  being  also  involved  in  pecuniary  difticulties,  left  the  United 
States,  going  to  Mexico  w^ith  his  wife,  son,  and  youngest 
daughter,  Pauline.  Alone  in  a  land  of  strangers,  separated 
from  all  her  relations,  chained  by  the  strongest  fetters  to  a 
man  whom  she  now  hated  —  who  was  unable  to  protect  her, 
and  who  selfishly  looked  to  her  musical  talents  as  a  means  of 
supplying  him  with  the  necessaries  of  life  —  the  situation  of 
Maria  was  pitiable.  But,  endued  with  energy  of  character, 
Madame  Malibran  soon  resolved  on  her  future  course.  The 
Italian  company  having  been  disorganized  on  the  departure 
of  her  father,  she  at  once  commenced  the  study  of  English  vo- 
cal music,  and  made  her  appearance  on  the  national  stage  at 
New  York.  She  was  successful,  and  each  evening  a  consider- 
able sum  of  money  was  sent  by  the  manager  of  the  theatre  to 
M.  Malibran.  Weary  of  her  hard  fate,  disgusted  with  the  de- 
ceitful man  who  had  thrown  such  a  blight  over  her  young  life, 
Maria  determined  on  separating  from  her  husband.  She  had 
not  been  married  to  Malibran  five  months  %vhen  she  took  the 
decided  step  of  quitting  him  and  returning  to  Europe.  She 
arrived  in  Paris,  September,  182G,  Avhen  she  took  up  her  resi- 
dence with  M.  Malibran's  sister. 

Although  she  was  born  in  Paris,  and  had  spent  some  years 
there,  the  solitude  in  which  she  had  pursued  her  studies  had 
not  permitted  of  her  forming  many  friendships ;  she  therefore 
found  herself,  on  her  return,  completely  isolated ;  but  she  rec- 
ollected the  friend  of  her  childhood,  the  Countess  Merlin,  and 
sought  her  out.  Hapless,  helpless,  the  young,  beautiful,  and 
gifted  girl  of  eighteen  appeared  before  her  friend  without 
money  and  nearly  destitute,  seeking  guidance  and  i^rotection. 
That  she  had  brought  all  this  on  herself  made  her  case  only 
the  more  melancholy.  Pity,  interest,  admiration,  by  turns  as- 
sailed the  heart  of  her  kind  friend,  who  vowed  she  would 
spare  no  effort  to  make  known  the  genius  of  poor  Maria;  and 
the  countess  went  about  extolling  the  rare  genius  and  misfor- 
22  P 


338  QUEENS   OP   SONG. 

4 

tunes  of  her  jDrotegee,  until  she  succeeclcd  iu  raising  au  excite- 
ment and  obtaining  for  her  an  engagement. 

Madame  MaUbran  made  her  first  appearance  at  the  Grand 
Opera  of  Paris  in  January,  in  Semiramide.,  at  the  benefit  of 
Galli.  For  the  first  time  in  her  life  she  trembled  at  the  or- 
deal she  was  about  to  undergo.  She  was  only  nineteen,  and 
had  not  heard  any  of  the  great  singers  during  the  most  impor- 
tant part  of  her  life ;  moreover.  Pasta  and  Sontag  were  the 
great  stars  of  the  opera.  Thrown  entirely  on  her  own  re- 
sources, she  felt  that  upon  the  result  of  that  night  her  future 
depended.  The  theatre  was  larger  than  any  she  had  ever 
sung  in,  and  the  company  was  so  distinguished,  the  audience 
so  fastidious  and  undemonstrative,  that  a  chill  struck  to  her 
heart,  and  it  was  not  without  a  violent  efibrt  at  self-control 
that  she  stepped  on  the  stage. 

The  sensation  she  produced  was  indescribable.  At  her 
entrance,  her  youth  and  beauty  bespoke  indulgence  for  her, 
and  the  noble  and  dignified  manner  in  which  she  gave  the  first 
phrase, "  Fra  tanti  regi  e  popoli,"  thrilled  through  the  house, 
and  applause  rang  from  all  sides.  The  difficult  phrase,  "  Fre- 
ma  il  empio,"  proved  "  a  stumbling-block  which  she  could  not 
surmount.  Alarmed  by  this  check,"  says  a  French  critic,  "she 
did  not  attempt  the  difficult  passage  in  the  da  capo,  but,  drop- 
ping her  voice,  terminated  the  passage  without  efiect,  leaving 
her  audience  in  doubt  and  dissatisfaction.  On  her  re-entrance 
she  was  coldly  received,  but  she  soon  succeeded  in  winning 
the  public  to  her  favor.  In  the  andante  to  the  air  '  Bel  rag- 
gioj'  the  young  singer  threw  out  such  powers,  and  displayed 
a  voice  so  full  and  beautiful,  that  the  formal  coldness  gave 
way  to  applause.  Encouraged  by  this,  she  hazarded  the  great- 
est difficulties  of  execution,  and  appeared  so  inspired  by  her 
success  that  her  courage  now  became  temerity." 

Her  half-veiled  genius,  the  novelty  of  her  fioriture,  and  some 
flashes  of  fine  dramatic  sentiment,  showed  what  she  would  be 
when  emotion  no  longer  checked  her  faculties.  There  were 
defects  in  her  singing  which  were  only  those  of  inexperience : 
she  multiplied  the  traits  of  all  styles  without  considering  their 
relative  affinities,  or  their  appropriateness  iu  melody  or  even 
in  harmony.  From  that  night,  however,  she  was  the  idol  of 
the  Parisians.  Some  critical  observations  in  the  journals,  the 
frequent  opportunities  she  enjoyed  of  hearing  good  singers. 


MAKIA   FELICITA   MALIBEAN.  339 

and,  above  all,  her  ailmiraLle  genius,  soon  gave  a  better  direc- 
tion to  her  talent. 

The  director,  who  had  at  first  been  rather  unwilling  that 
she  should  a^jpear,  lest  she  should  interfere  with  Sontag,  now 
became  pressing  in  his  offers.  She  hesitated  a  moment  be- 
tween the  Grand  Opera  and  the  Italicns,  then  decided  for  the 
latter — wisely,  for  opera  was  at  that  period  a  very  dreary  af- 
fair at  the  Academic.  Laurent  engaged  her  at  800  francs  for 
each  night  of  performance,  and  a  free  benefit,  and  she  appear- 
ed at  the  Italian  Theatre  in  May,  in  Torvaldo  e  Dorliska,  with 
Zuchelli,  Donzelli,  Pellegrini,  and  Mdlle.  Amigo. 

Her  voice,  like  her  genius,  Avas  thoroughly  original,  and  su- 
perior to  that  of  all  other  artistes  of  the  same  class.  In  char- 
acter a  contralto,  it  was  not  precisely  beautiful ;  it  had  even 
many  defects,  especially  in  the  middle  tones,  which  Averc  hard 
and  unequal ;  to  overcome  the  imperfection  of  this  part  of  her 
voice,  she  was  obliged  to  go  through  her  exercises  every  day. 
Her  compass  extended  over  three  octaves  —  from  D  in  alt  to 
D  on  the  third  line  in  the  bass.  In  private  singing  her  range 
was  even  greater.  Her  low,  soft,  sweet,  heart-searching  tones 
were  the  never-failing  index  of  her  varying  sensibilities.  In  her 
choice  of  ornaments  she  had  a  daring  which  was  only  justified 
by  the  success  which  almost  invariably  crowned  her  flights 
of  fancy.  As  the  pupil  of  her  father,  she  had  adopted  a  style 
florid  in  the  extreme ;  her  facility,  her  fertility  of  musical  inspi- 
ration and  cultivation  of  voice,  giving  her  advantages  rarely  to 
be  found.  "Her  passages  were  not  only  remarkable  for  ex- 
tent, rapidity,  and  complication,  but  were  invariably  marked 
by  the  most  intense  feeling  and  sentiment.  Her  soul  appear- 
ed in  every  thing  she  did."  Her  extraordinary  flexibility  en- 
abled her  to  run  with  ease  over  passages  of  the  most  difficult 
character.  "  In  the  tones  of  Malibran,"  says  one  of  her  En- 
ghsh  admirers, "  there  would  at  times  be  developed  a  deep  and 
trembling  pathos,  that,  rushing  from  the  fountain  of  the  heart, 
'thrilled  instantly  upon  a  rcs])onsive  chord  in  the  bosoms  of  all." 
She  was  the  pupil  of  Nature.  Her  acting  was  full  of  genius, 
passion,  and  tenderness.  She  was  equally  grand  as  Semira- 
mide  and  as  Arsace,  and  sang  the  music  of  both  parts  superb- 
ly. Touching,  profoundly  melancholy  as  Desdemona,  she  was 
gay  and  graceful  in  Kosina;  she  drew  tears  as  Kinctta,  and, 
throwing  off"  the  coquette,  could  produce  roars  of  laughter  as 


3^40  QUEENS    OF   SONG. 

Fidalma.     She  had  never  taken  lessons  in  poses  or  in  declama- 
tion, yet  she  was  essentially,  innately  graceful. 

In  jjerson  Maria  was  a  little  below  the  medium  height,  and 
the  contour  of  her  figure  was  rounded  to  a  becoming  degree 
of  embonpoint.  Her  carriage  was  always  noble  and  dignified ; 
her  face  was  more  expressive  than  handsome;  her  hair — the 
pride  of  a  Spaniard  —  was  black  and  glossy,  and  she  wore  it 
always  simply  parted  in  the  middle,  w^hether  she  apiDeared  as 
queen  or  peasant.  Her  eyes  were  dark  and  expressive;  her 
teeth  white  and  regular ;  and  her  Avhole  countenance,  with  its 
pensive,  and,  at  times,  melancholy  aspect,  had  the  charm  of 
indefinable  interest  and  captivation  :  the  mutability  of  her  feat- 
m'es  was  extraordinary,  and  reflected  the  most  varied  emotion 
and  changes  of  feeling.  "  She  may  not  have  been  beautiful," 
remai'ks  Mr.  Chorley,  in  his  liecollections,  "  but  she  was  better 
than  beautiful,  in  so  much  as  a  speaking  Spanish  human  coun- 
tenance by  Murillo  is  ten  times  more  fascinating  than  many  a 
faultless  angel- face  such  as  Guido  could  paint.  There  was 
health  of  tint,  with  but  a  slight  touch  of  the  yellow  rose  in  her 
complexion  ;  great  mobility  of  expression  in  her  features ;  an 
honest,  direct  brightness  of  eye ;  a  refinement  in  the  form  of 
her  head,  and  the  set  of  it  on  her  shoi;lders." 

Fctis  often  reproached  her  with  employing  means  of  which 
no  one  had  less  need  to  secure  the  suffrages  of  the  crowd. 
"  With  the  degree  of  elevation  to  which  you  had  an-ived,"  he 
would  say  indignantly, "  you  should  impose  your  opinion  on 
the  public,  not  submit  to  theirs."  She  would  shrug  her  pret- 
ty shoulders  and  laugh.  "Jlfo?i  cher  grognon^  there  may,  per- 
haps, be  two  or  three  connoisseurs  in  the  theatre,  but  it  is  not 
they  who  give  success.  When  I  sing  for  you,  I  will  sing  very 
diflerently." 

The  Parisian  public,  transported  with  such  youth,  beauty, 
and  talent,  threw  themselves  at  her  feet,  and  Maria,  feeling 
herself  sustained  by  the  confidence  which  gives  success,  and 
which  success  gives,  often  attained  the  sublime.  She  appear- 
ed as  Desdemona,  Rosina,  and  as  Romeo,  in  Ziugarelli's  opera; 
characters  as  diverse  as  could  well  be  imagined — two  of  them, 
moreover,  among  the  masterpieces  of  Pasta.  It  was  remarked 
by  a  French  critic  that  "if  Malibran  must  yield  the  palm  to 
Pasta  in  point  of  acting,  yet  she  possessed  a  decided  su23erior- 
ity  in  respect  to  song."     From  that  time  the  superiority  of 


MAKIA   FELICITA   MALIBEAN".  341 

Malibran  "  in  respect  to  song"  became  each  day  more  indis- 
putable ;  while,  with  regard  to  acting,  though  no  vocal  per- 
former has  ever  equaled  Pasta  in  her  own  peculiar  style  of 
terrible  grandeur,  yet  none  has  ever  surpassed  Malibran  in 
grace,  originality,  vivacity,  piquancy,  spontaneity,  feeling,  and 
those  "  tender  strokes  of  art"  which,  coming  from  the  heart, 
pierce  instantly  to  the  heart  of  every  spectator.  Her  versatil- 
ity was  wonderful :  the  Semiramide  of  this  evening  was  to- 
morrow the  gentle  Cinderella ;  the  lively,  arch  Zerlina  became 
the  sad  Desdemona.  A  friend  once  asked  her  what  was  her 
favorite  character.  "The  character  I  happen  to  bo  acting, 
whatever  it  may  haj^pen  to  be,"  she  answered. 

Pasta,  it  was  justly  said,  might  be  called  the  Siddons  of  Op- 
era, Malibran  the  Garrick.  Wherever  she  sang,  she  animated 
the  orchestra,  director,  and  singers  with  ardor  by  the  glow  of 
h :;r  genius;  and  she  would  voluntarily  instruct  her  fellow-per- 
furmers.  She  could  sing  in  any  school,  and  in  almost  any  lan- 
guage :  Mozart  and  Cimarosa,  Boieldieu  and  Rossini,  Cheru- 
bini  and  Bellini,  she  seized  on  all  readily,  and  presented  each 
in  its  individual  character,  while  pouring  forth  the  notes  as 
the  inspiration  of  the  moment.  She  had  a  genius  which  in- 
vents, which  reproduces,  which  imposes  types,  and  which  forces 
others  not  only  to  admire,  but  to  imitate.  Many  contradicto- 
ry opinions  were  given  of  her  talent,  but  none  refused  to  ac- 
knowledge her  great  gifts.     Her  versatility  was  extraordinary. 

She  played  the  piano-forte  remarkably  well,  and,  without 
having  taken  lessons  in  drawing,  she  sketched  caricatures,  and 
portraits  that  were  striking  likenesses :  an  amusement  in  which 
she  often  indulged  was  sketching  the  profiles  of  those  on  the 
stage  while  waiting  her  turn  to  go  on.  She  could  compose 
with  rapidity  and  felicity  romances  and  songs.  In  feminine 
works  she  excelled ;  and  if  she  saw  a  new  work,  a  piece  of 
embroidery,  a  cap,  or  a  design  in  tapestry  that  struck  her,  she 
instantly  caught  the  idea,  and  imitated,  often  surpassed  the 
model.  Her  theatrical  costumes  and  her  head-dresses  were 
all  invented  or  made  by  herself,  and  she  might  often  be  found 
with  the  needle  in  her  hand  while  exercising  her  voice.  She 
wrote  and  spoke  four  or  five  languages,  and  emj^loyed  them 
at  the  same  time,  without  confounding  them,  in  a  conversa- 
tion with  different  interlocutors,  though  in  the  heat  of  argu- 
ment her  vivacity  would  sometimes  carry  her  away,  so  that 


342  QUEENS    OP   SONG. 

when  at  a  loss  for  a  word  she  would  take  the  first  that  pre- 
sented itself.  One  day,  in  an  animated  discussion,  a  friend 
reproached  her  with  using  language  particolored  like  a  harle- 
quin's suit.  "  True,"  she  quickly  replied,  "  it  is  particolored 
like  harlequin,  but  not  masked."  Her  memory  was  ama2dug : 
in  four  or  five  hours  she  could  learn  an  opera  in  one  act  well 
enough  to  perform  it  in  the  evening.  She  read  the  music  and 
words,  Avhether  in  prose  or  verse,  with  as  much  raj^idity  as 
clearness.  She  rode  perfectly  on  horseback,  but,  like  most 
singers,  she  danced  badly. 

Impassioned,  vehement,  torn  by  continual  excitement,  it  was 
sometimes  difficult  to  recall  this  wayward  creature  to  the  com- 
monplaces of  ordinary  life ;  but  she  was  very  ready  to  attend 
to  reason,  and  having  the  instincts  of  goodness  and  justice, 
Avas  eager  in  her  anxiety  to  repair  any  errors  into  which  she 
might  have  fallen.  She  listened  with  candor  and  courage  to 
the  most  severe  truths.  She  was  generous,  Avithout  pomp  or 
ostentation;  extravagant  and  lavish  to  others,  penurious  to 
herself  alone.  Brusque  and  original  in  her  frankness,  though 
her  unfortunate  position  needed  great  tact,  she  was  so  ingenu- 
ous that  she  could  not  conceal  her  real  impressions.  She  had 
a  childlike  simplicity  of  character,  and  a  singular  mixture  of 
the  most  lovable  and  the  most  dangerous  qualities ;  she  was 
fond  of  toys,  dolls,  trifles,  yet  she  was  daring,  and  devoted  to 
athletic  sports  and  pastimes  —  riding,  skating,  swimming,  and 
even  shooting.  She  Avould  often,  on  returning  from  an  even- 
ing spent  in  going  through  a  long  and  fatiguing  opera,  begin 
jumping  over  chairs  and  tables,  or  up  and  down  stairs  like  a 
schoolboy,  in  the  wildness  of  animal  spirits.  She  herself  said, 
""NYheu  I  try  to  restrain  my  flow  of  spirits,  I  feel  as  if  I  should 
be  suffocated." 

Her  habits  were  not  always  suited  to  her  sex,  but  her  man- 
ners Avere  invariably  blameless.  Her  wild  gayety,  her  occa- 
sional extravagance,  her  custom  of  frequently  going  about  in 
the  country  dressed  like  a  boy,  led  to  a  scandalous  rumor  that 
she  made  an  immoderate  use  of  stimulants,  whereas  she  never 
drank  any  thing  but  wine  mixed  with  water.  Sometimes, 
when  thoroughly  exhausted,  she  would  strengthen  her  nervous 
system  with  a  glass  of  Madeira,  as  she  would  have  employed 
vinetjar  if  it  Avould  have  afforded  her  the  same  relief. 

Maria  Avas  not  lono;  before  she  became  discontented  with 


o 


MAEIA  FELICITA  MALIBEAN.  343 

the  hostile  tutelage  of  M.  Malibran's  sister.  The  necessity  of 
protection,  the  fear  of  censure,  her  youth,  and  her  unfortunate 
position,  compelled  her  to  prolong  for  many  weeks  her  sojourn 
with  her  sister-in-law ;  but  one  fine  day,  in  a  moment  of  irrita- 
tion, she  took  "  French  leave"  of  her  hostess,  sent  for  a  hack- 
ney-coach, packed  into  it  her  trunks,  jumped  in  after  them, 
and  drove  to  the  house  of  Madame  Naldi,  an  old  friend  of 
the  family,  a  woman  of  imperious  and  austere  manners,  where 
she  installed  herself. 

To  Madame  Naldi  she  was  gentle  and  docile.  If  by  any 
little  fits  of  ill  humor  she  offended,  she  would  load  her  with 
caresses,  and  entreat  forgiveness  with  the  abandon  of  a  child. 
Madame  Naldi  saw  all  her  letters,  and  took  all  her  money, 
never  giving  her  a  sous  except  in  cases  of  imperative  necessi- 
ty. "  It  was  really  touching,"  says  the  Countess  de  MerUn, 
"  to  see  her  yield  to  the  advice,  to  the  petty  sacrifices  inflicted 
and  exacted  by  her  friend."  One  day,  when  her  fortune  was 
at  its  height,  Madame  Malibran  showed  a  friend  a  little  worn 
Cashmere  shawl.  "  I  use  this  shawl  in  preference  to  any  oth- 
er that  I  have,"  she  said.  "  It  was  the  first  Cashmere  shawl 
that  I  ever  obtained,  and  I  have  pleasure  in  remembering  the 
trouble  I  had  in  coaxing  Madame  Naldi  to  permit  me  to  buy 
it." 

In  1828,  the  principal  members  of  the  operatic  company  at 
the  Italiens  were  Malibran,  Sontag,  Donzelli,  Zuchelli,  and  Gra- 
ziani.  Malibran  appeared  in  Otello,  Matilda  di  Shahran,  La 
Cenerentola,  and  La  Gazza  Ladra.  The  presence  of  the  great 
German  singer  was  a  stimulus,  not  a  check  to  her  talent ;  but 
the  invidious  comparisons  which  were  raised  sent  many  pangs 
of  jealousy  to  her  heart.  Every  time  that  Sontag  obtained  a 
triumph  Maria  Avept,  naively  saying,  "Why  does  she  sing  so 
divinely?"  Yet  these  two  exquisite  voices  were  formed  for 
harmony,  not  for  discord.  It  does  not  clearly  appear  how 
their  reconciliation  was  effected :  Madame  Merlin  says  it  was 
at  a  concert  at  her  house.  A  kind  of  plot  had  been  laid  by 
the  amateurs,  who  longed  to  hear  them  together ;  in  the  mid- 
dle of  the  concert  it  was  proposed  to  them  to  sing  the  duo 
from  Tancredi.  For  some  moments  they  hesitated ;  at  last 
they  agreed,  and  approached  the  piano-forte  amid  the  acclama- 
tions of  the  audience.  The  enthusiasm  which  they  excited 
was  so  lively,  that  at  the  termination  of  the  duo  they  looked 


344  QUEENS   OF   SONG. 

at  each  other,  and,  by  a  spontaneous  movement,  clasped  hands, 
sealing  their  triumph  with  the  kiss  of  peace. 

In  the  midst  of  these  ovations  Madame  Malibran  never  lost 
her  simplicity.  She  was  totally  ignorant  of  household  affaii's : 
absorbed  by  her  studies,  she  never  had  a  taste  for  luxury,  nor 
indulged  in  superfluous  expenses;  but  if  her  fellow -artistes 
were  in  need,  she  spared  no  exertion  in  their  behalf.  At  the 
house  of  one  of  her  friends  she  often  met  an  aged  widow,  poor 
and  unhappy,  and  strongly  desired  to  assist  her ;  but  the  posi- 
tion and  character  of  the  lady  required  delicate  management. 
"Madame,"  she  said  at  last,  "I  know  that  your  son  makes 
very  pretty  verses."  "  Yes,  madame,  he  sometimes  amuses 
himself  iu  that  way.  But  he  is  so  young."  "No  matter. 
Do  you  know  that  I  could  propose  a  little  partnership  afiair  ? 
Troupenas  (the  music  publisher)  has  asked  me  for  a  new  set 
of  romances.  I  have-  no  words  ready.  If  your  son  will  give 
them  to  me,  we  could  share  the  profits."  Madame  Malibran 
received  the  verses,  and  gave  in  exchange  600  francs.  The 
romances  were  never  finished. 

She  performed  all  these  acts  of  charity  with  such  refined 
delicacy,  such  true  generosity,  that  the  kindness  was  doubled. 
Thus,  at  the  end  of  this  season,  a  young  female  chorister,  en- 
gaged for  the  opening  of  the  King's  Theatre,  found  herself  un- 
able to  quit  Paris  for  want  of  funds.  Madame  Malibran  prom- 
ised to  sing  at  a  concert  which  some  of  the  leading  vocalists 
gave  for  her  benefit.  The  name  of  Malibran  of  course  drew  a 
crowd,  and  the  room  was  filled ;  but  she  did  not  ajjpear,  and 
at  last  they  were  obliged  to  commence  the  concert.  The  en- 
tertainment was  half  over  when  she  came,  and  approached  the 
young  girl,  saying  to  her  in  a  low  voice,  "I  am  a  little  late,  my 
dear,  but  the  public  will  lose  nothing,  for  I  will  sing  all  the 
pieces  announced.  In  addition,  as  I  promised  you  all  my  even- 
ing, I  will  keep  my  word.  I  went  to  sing  in  a  concert  at  the 
house  of  the  Due  d'Orleans,  where  I  received  300  francs. 
They  belong  to  you.     Take  them." 

The  Theatre  Italien  being  closed  during  the  summer  months, 
the  principal  singers  accepted  engagements  with  Laporte,  of 
the  King's  Theatre ;  Madame  Malibran  accepted  Laporte's  of- 
fer of  seventy-five  guineas  for  each  representation,  and  left  for 
Enj^land  with  Madame  ISTaldi. 

On  the  21st  of  April  she  appeared  at  the  King's  Theatre  in 


MAMA  FELICITA  MAT.TBRAX.  345 

the  character  of  Desdemona.  Donzelli  was  the  Moor ;  Curi- 
oni,  Rodvigo ;  Levasseur,  Ehiiiro ;  aud  Madame  Castelli,  Emi- 
lia. Madame  Malibran  was  received  by  the  pubhc  with  an 
ovation,  but  the  critics  evinced  great  hesitation.  To  Madame 
Pasta  was  due  the  idea  of  reviving  this  opera,  and  in  the  part 
of  Desdemona,  a  part  originally  written  for  Colbran,  she  had 
made  the  first  conquest  of  the  Parisians.  Sontag  had  attemjit- 
ed  it  with  diffidence,  being  unwilling  to  incur  the  risk  of  com- 
pai-ison  with  Pasta,  and  determining  her  to  adopt  a  concep- 
tion entirely  diflerent  from  that  of  her  predecessor.  It  was 
difficult  to  find  a  medium  between  the  passion  of  the  one  act- 
ress and  the  delicate  beauty  of  the  other,  so  Madame  Malibran 
gave  a  version  of  the  character  suited  to  her  individual  taste 
and  powers.  The  critics,  Avho  persisted  in  comparing  her  with 
Pasta,  objected  to  her  reading. 

She  was  very  vehement  aud  impassioned :  for  example,  in 
the  last  scene  of  the  first  act,  during  the  quintette  "  Smanio, 
delirio,  e  tremo,"  she  flew  from  Elmiro  to  Otello,  and  from 
Otcllo  to  Rodrigo.  in  a  kind  of  frantic  terror.  In  the  scene 
where  Desdemona  endeavors  to  appease  the  quarrel  of  Otcllo 
and  Rodrigo,  she  was  unnecessarily  violent ;  and  when  en- 
deavoring to  soften  the  wrath  of  her  father,  she  fell  into  a 
transport  of  despair,  dragging  herself  on  her  knees  over  the 
stage,  tearing  her  hair,  and  abandoning  herself  to  uncontrolla- 
ble grief.  Again,  in  the  final  scene,  when  Otello  heaps  re- 
proaches on  her,  she  called  on  him  to  kill  her,  and  satiate  his 
vengeance,  in  a  tone  of  rage  and' resolution  which  was  thought 
to  be  inconsistent  Avith  the  gentle  character  of  Desdemona, 
and  with  the  sudden  terror  she  evinced  at  his  murderous  pur- 
pose. Her  explanation  was,  that  she  felt  as  if  she  were  really 
in  the  various  situations. 

"  I  remember  once,"  says  the  Countess  de  Merlin, "  a  friend 
advised  her  not  to  make  Otello  pursue  her  so  long  Avhen  he 
was  about  to  kill  her.  Her  answer  Avas, '  You  are  right ;  it  is 
not  elegant,  I  admit ;  but  when  once  I  fairly  enter  into  my 
character,  I  never  think  of  eftects,  but  imagine  myself  actually 
the  person  I  represent.  I  can  assure  you  that  in  the  last 
scene  of  Desdemona  I  often  feel  as  if  I  were  really  about  to 
be  murdered,  and  act  accordingly.'  Donzelli  used  to  be  much 
annoyed  by  Madame  IMalibran  not  determining  beforehand 
how  he  Avas  to  seize  her ;  she  often  gave  him  a  regular  chase. 

P2 


346  QUEENS    OF   SONG. 

Though  he  was  one  of  the  best-tempered  men  in  the  world,  I 
recollect  huii  one  evening  being  seriously  angry.  Desdemona 
had,  according  to  custom,  repeatedly  escaped  from  his  grasp ; 
in  pursuing  her,  he  stumbled,  and  slightly  wounded  himself 
with  the  dagger  he  brandished.  It  was  the  only  time  I  ever 
saw  him  in  a  passion." 

She  next  appeared  as  Rosina,  Bordogni  being  the  Count, 
and  Zuchelli,  Figaro.  Her  graceful  and  lively  manner,  her  na- 
tive simplicity,  and  her  exquisite  singing,  made  this  a  delight- 
ful performance.  She  also  appeared  as  Ninetta,  with  Bordog- 
ni, Pellegrhii,  and  Zuchelli ;  and  it  was  she  who  first  brought 
into  notice,  by  her  matchless  vocalization,  the  beautiful  duo  of 
the  prison  scene,  hitherto  generally  omitted  as  of  little  inter- 
est. In  July  she  performed  Tancredi,  a  character  never  a  fa- 
vorite with  her,  for  she  often  declared  that  he  was  an  insignifi- 
cant being,  with  whose  feelings  she  had  no  sympathy.  In  her 
execution  of  "Di  tanti  palpiti,"  it  was  objected  that  she  cov- 
ered the  air  with  too  great  a  profusion  of  ornament.  The  mu- 
sic of  Rossini  was,  it  is  true,  already  sufiiciently  florid,  and 
Pasta  rather  diminished  than  added  to  the  notes  of  that  pop- 
ular composition. 

Madame  Malibran  performed  Semiramide  with  Madame  Pis- 
aroni,  and  Zerlina  to  Sontag's  Donna  Anna.  She  was  very 
arch  and  sprightly  as  the  coquettish  young  peasant,  and  in  the 
execution  of  the  vocal  part  she  was  unapproachable.  Mali- 
bran's  representation  of  Ninetta  and  Zerlina  gave  rise  to  a 
good  deal  of  controversy  among  the  contemporary  critics.  She 
represented  these  characters  as  she  imagined  they  would  be 
in  actual  life — common  country  girls,  with  awkward  demean- 
or and  hoydenish  manners,  thus  making  them  to  a  certain  ex- 
tent ridiculous  rather  than  interesting.  This  was  undoubted- 
ly a  mistake,  for  the  cliaracters  are  almost  entirely  ideal ;  more- 
over, simple  rusticity  is  not  necessarily  awkward  or  vulgar; 
while  to  lessen  the  sympathies  of  the  audience  is  to  impair  the 
dramatic  effect,  and  make  the  very  music  they  utter  in  such 
refined  accents  appear  absurd.  Ninetta,  as  the  heroine  of  a 
deeply  pathetic  story,  was  unlike  the  generality  of  peasant 
wenches;  Zerlina, being  a  true  village  coquette,  would  not  nat- 
urally be  either  rude  or  boisterous.  "  It  is  by  no  means  rare," 
argued  one  critic, "  to  discover,  in  the  humblest  walk  of  life, 
an  inborn  grace  and  delicacy  of  nature's  own  implanting;  and 


MAKIA  FELICITA   MALIBRAN".  347 

sucli  assuredly  is  the  model  from  which  characters  like  Ninet- 
ta  aud  Zerlina  ought  to  be  copied."  This  argument  also  holds 
good  with  regard  to  the  character  of  Amina.  "She  mistakes 
an  awkward  sprightliness  aud  iucessant  rajiidity  of  motion," 
observes  another  Avritcr, "  for  the  amiable  naivete  of  an  inter- 
esting country  giri.  Nothing  could  be  more  out  of  character 
than  her  affected  clumsiness  in  imitating  the  minuet  step  in 
the  ball-scene  with  which  the  first  act  closes.  Country  girls 
are  not  necessarily  clumsy ;  they  are  frequently  remarkable 
for  grace  when  moving  in  their  own  sphere." 

Madame  Malibran  appeared  as  Susanna  in  the  N'ozze  cli  Fi- 
garo for  her  own  benefit,  and  was  irresistible  as  the  ai-ch  wait- 
ing-maid. It  was  impossible  to  choose  a  part  affording  great- 
er opportunity  of  displaying  her  talent  for  lyric  comedy ;  and, 
as  far  as  the  acting  was  concerned,  her  performance  was  the 
best  of  that  kind  that  had  been  seen  for  years  on  the  stage  of 
the  King's  Theatre.  Her  vocalization  was  of  course  magnifi- 
cent. 

The  ludicrous  had  a  strange  fascination  for  Malibran.  She 
had  an  unaccountable  fancy  for  throwing  aside  her  tragic  robe, 
and  donning  the  most  grotesque  costume  she  could  find,  often 
declaring  she  would  greatly  prefer  to  play  the  Duenna  in  II 
3arbiere  to  Rosina,  for  the  sake  of  the  ridiculous  dress ;  and 
she  actually  did  perform  it  in  private.  In  pursuance  of  this 
whim,  she  announced  her  intention  of  performing  Fidalma,  in 
II  Matrimonio  Segreto^  a  part  answering  to  the  Mrs.  Heidel- 
berg of  the  Clandestine  Marriage^  and  her  acting  was  inimi- 
table :  her  comic  humor  was  irresistible,  and  proved  a  versa- 
tility of  power  rarely,  if  ever  to  be  met  with.  She  reveled  in 
the  ludicrous  situations,  aud  made  Fidalma  a  prominent  part 
by  the  drollery  of  her  tone  and  manner  ;  though  when  she  re- 
proached the  two  sisters  alternately  with  being  "  un  poco  in- 
solento,"  the  feeling  of  mirth  was  suddenly  converted  into  a 
burst  of  admiration  by  the  brilliancy  of  a  roulade  on  the  word 
"insolente,"  taken  from  the  C  above  the  lines,  and  running 
down  the  entire  range  of  her  voice.  Yet  at  the  Birmingham 
Musical  Festival,  in  the  autumn,  she  sang  "  Holy,  holy  Lord," 
in  a  style  more  impressive,  as  veteran  amateurs  admitted,  than 
had  been  heard  since  the  days  of  Mara, 

Madame  Malibran  had  scarcely  stepped  on  French  ground 
ere  she  learned  that  her  father  had  unexpectedly  returned, 


348  QUEENS    OF   SONG. 

with  the  intention  of  giving  some  rejjresentations  at  the  Thea- 
tre Italian.  This  resolution  caused  much  vexation  to  his 
daughter,  but  she  did  not  oppose  it.  Garcia  had  lost  a  part 
of  his  voice ;  his  tenor  had  become  a  baritone,  and  he  could 
no  longer  reach  the  notes  which  had  in  former  times  been 
written  for  him.  She  knew  how  much  her  father's  voice  had 
become  injured,  and  knowing  equally  well  his  intrepid  courage, 
feared,  not  without  reason,  that  he  would  tarnish  his  brilliant 
reputation.  Garcia  displayed  even  more  than  ever  the  great 
artiste.  A  hoarseness  seized  him  at  the  moment  of  appearing 
on  the  stage.  " This  is  nothing,"  said  he :  "I  shall  do  very 
well;"  and  by  sheer  strength  of  talent  and  of  will,  he  arranged 
the  music  of  his  part  (Almaviva)  to  suit  the  condition  of  his 
voice,  changing  the  passages,  transposing  them  an  octave  low- 
er, and  taking  up  notes  adroitly  where  he  found  his  voice 
available ;  and  all  this  instantly,  with  an  admirable  confidence. 

In  November,  having  renewed  her  engagement  with  Lau- 
rent at  a  salary  of  800  francs  for  each  representation,  and  a 
benefit,  Madame  Malibran  apj^eared  as  Desdemona.  Every 
day  her  talent  became  more  resplendent,  and  her  voice  was 
progressing  to  perfection.  The  season  was  unusually  brilliant, 
and  the  "  management"  trembled  for  the  health  of  the  darlino- 
of  the  public. 

She  never  rested  an  instant,  but  flung  herself  into  all  the 
exertions  and  pleasures  of  her  fevered  life  without  calculating 
the  possibility  of  her  strength  one  day  deserting  her.  She 
lavished  her  voice,  her  time,  her  energies  whenever  she  was 
called  on  to  amuse,  never  hesitating  to  sacrifice  herself  to  the 
Avhim  of  the  moment  or  the  gratification  of  her  friends. 

Having  one  night  promised  to  sing  at  the  house  of  Madame 
Merlin,  M.  Laurent  told  her  that  it  was  impossible,  as  it  was  a 
benefit  night  at  the  theatre.  Malibran,  after  essaying  to  in- 
duce him  to  alter  the  performance  to  another  evening,  at 
length  observed,  in  a  very  bad  humor, "  It  does  not  signify.  I 
sing  at  the  theatre  because  it  is  my  duty,  but  afterward  I  sing 
at  the  house  of  Madame  Merlin  because  it  is  my  pleasure;" 
and  at  one  o'clock  in  the  morning,  after  having  played  Semira- 
raide,  she  appeared  in  the  countess's  salon,  sang  there  till  two 
or  three,  supped,  waltzed,  and  did  not  leave  till  daybreak. 

Thus,  after  having  passed  the  night  at  a  ball,  on  the  eve  of 
her  performance  of  some  arduous  character,  she  rose  at  twelve, 


MAKIA  FELICITA   MALIBKAIT.  349 

mounted  her  horse,  started  off,  and  did  not  return  till  six.  As 
soon  as  she  had  dined,  she  was  obliged  to  be  at  the  theatre, 
where  she  would  dress  hurriedly  for  her  part ;  but  worn  out, 
agitated,  and  rather  oppressed  than  recruited  by  a  hasty  din- 
ner, even  her  iron  will  could  not  bear  her  through. 

One  night,  after  one  of  these  fatiguing  days,  she  fainted  at 
the  moment  of  appearing  on  the  stage,  and  was  carried  into 
her  dressing-room.  Twenty  vinaigrettes  were  presented  at 
once,  and  by  some  mischance,  among  the  number  was  one  con- 
taining a  mixture  of  oil  and  alkali,  which  some  eager  friend 
held  to  her  lips  ;  half  imconsciously  she  tasted  it,  and  the  next 
moment  blisters  covered  her  mouth.  What  was  to  be  done  ? 
She  could  not  appear  on  the  stage,  and  it  was  too  late  to  change 
the  performance.  The  director  Avas  in  despair.  "  Stay,"  said 
Malibrau,  rising,  "I  will  arrange  it;"  and,  taking  a  pair  of  scis- 
sors lying  near,  she  stepped  up  to  a  glass,  and  without  a  mo- 
ment's hesitation  cut  off  the  blisters  which  swelled  her  lips ! 
The  state  in  which  she  remained  may  be  imagined.  But  she 
performed  the  part  of  Arsace  to  the  Semiramide  of  Sontag, 
and  never  sang  or  acted  better. 

In  January  Malibran  performed  Tancredi  for  the  benefit  of 
Sontag,  when  for  the  first  time  coronals  and  bouquets  were 
thrown  on  to  the  Italian  stage  in  Paris.  At  the  conclusion 
of  the  performance,  she  picked  up  the  flloral  treasures  and  of- 
fered them  to  Sontag,  "  who,"  observes  a  French  critic,  "  in 
her  confusion,  forgot  that  a  part  of  these  trophies  belonged  to 
the  fair  Tancredi."  Malibran  was  passionately  fond  of  flowers, 
and  when  performing  Desdemona  for  her  benefit  in  March,  as 
she  lay  dead  on  the  stage,  watching  Othello,  in  his  mad  re- 
morse, preparing  to  stab  himself  and  fall  in  his  turn,  she  ex- 
claimed in  a  low  tone,  "Take  care  of  my  flowers !  do  not  crush 
my  flowers !" 

In  1830  Madame  Malibran  became  acquainted  with  M. 
Charles  de  Bcriot,  a  native  of  Belgium,  and  a  distinguished 
violinist,  in  whom  she  felt  an  interest,  as  much  on  account  of 
his  talents  as  because  she  sympathized  with  him  in  a  senti- 
mental disappointment.  He  was  in  love  with  Sontag,  who  did 
not  care  for  him,  and  who  was,  besides,  engaged  to  the  Count 
Rossi.  She  made  no  scruple  of  avowing  with  childlike  can- 
dor the  predilection  she  entertained  for  the  young  Belgian, 
and  as  the  surveillance  of  Madame  Iwldi  became  troublesome, 


350  QUEENS   OF   SOXG. 

because  tlaat  austere  lady  combated  her  passion  for  De  Beriot, 
she  determined  to  break  with  her ;  she  therefore  took  a  house 
in  the  Rue  de  Provence,  and  removed  thither. 

Madame  Malibran  reappeared  at  the  King's  Theatre  in  April 
in  La  Cenerentola^  the  music  of  which  afforded  her  an  oppor- 
tunity for  displaying  all  her  resources.  Her  vocal  powers  had 
improved  to  an  extent  which  tempted  her  to  abuse  them  by 
too  great  a  redundancy  of  ornament,  and  her  style  of  singing 
was  consequently  more  florid  than  it  had  ever  been  hitherto; 
but  the  ease,  the  neatness,  the  rapidity  with  which  she  gave 
all  her  passages,  and  the  fullness  and  equality  of  each  of  her 
notes,  were  not  to  be  surpassed.  She  also  performed  in  Otello 
and  II  Matriraonio  Segreto.  Lablache,  who  made  his  first  aj)- 
pearance  in  England  in  the  latter  opera,  was  magnificent  as 
Geronimo.  "  He  looked  like  a  deaf  man,  and  sang  like  a  man 
possessed  of  a  very  fine  ear." 

Malibran  became  sincerely  attached  to  Lablache,  and  to  the 
very  hour  of  her  death  regarded  him  as  one  of  her  dearest 
friends.  Both  were  amiable  and  charitable,  and  they  often 
united  in  doing  benevolent  actions.  One  day  during  this  sea- 
son, an  Italian  emigre  addressed  Lablache,  asking  help  to  re- 
turn to  his  own  country.  The  next  day,  when  all  the  compa- 
ny were  assembled  for  rehearsal,  Lablache  requested  them  to 
join  in  succoring  their  unhajDpy  compatriot:  all  responded  to 
the  call,  Madame  Lalande  and  Donzelli  each  contributing  fifty 
francs.  Malibran  gave  the  same  as  the  others;  but  the  follow- 
ing day,  seizing  the  opportunity  of  being  alone  with  Lablache, 
she  desired  him  to  add  to  her  subscription  of  50  francs  250 
more :  she  had  not  liked  to  appear  to  bestow  more  than  her 
friends,  so  she  had  remained  silent  the  preceding  day.  La- 
blache hastened  to  seek  h\& protege,  who,  however,  profiting  by 
the  help  afibrded  him,  had  already  embarked  ;  but,  not  discour- 
aged, Lablache  hurried  after  him,  and  arrived  just  as  the  steam- 
er was  leaving  the  Thames.  Entering  a  boat,  however,  he 
reached  the  vessel,  went  on  board,  and  gave  the  money  to  the 
emigre,  whose  expressions  of  gratitude  amply  repaid  the  trouble 
of  the  kind-hearted  basso.  Another  time  Malibran  aided  a 
poor  Italian  who  was  destitute,  telling  him  to  say  nothing 
about  it.  "  Ah !  madame,"  cried  he,  "  you  have  saved  me  for- 
ever!" "Hush!"  she  interrupted;  "do  not  say  that;  only 
the  Almighty  could  ddllo.     Pray  to  Hiii." 


MAEIA   FELICITA   MALIBEAIf.  351 

At  the  close  of  the  opera  season,  Madame  Malibran  sang  in 
September  and  October  at  Bath  and  at  Bristol,  in  eight  con- 
certs, at  a  salary  of  eighty  guineas  for  each  concert.  She  knew 
no  rest ;  and  the  fatigues  which  she  voluntarily  imposed  on 
herself  were  scarcely  credible.  She  would  fly  to  Calais,  and 
sing  there ;  then  back  to  England,  and  anon  be  on  her  way  to 
Brussels,  where  she  would  sing,  and  return  to  England  again, 
gay  and  light-hearted,  dancing  and  acting  at  parties  for  her 
own  amusement,  needlessly  flinging  away  the  strength  and 
energy  she  ought  to  have  carefully  preserved.  It  is  said,  how- 
ever, that  she  was  haunted  by  an  idea  that  when  she  ceased  to 
enjoy  existence  in  this  manner,  she  should  die. 

Being  engaged  by  the  new  directors  of  the  Theatre  Italien, 
Messrs.  Robert  and  Severiui,  for  1175  francs  for  each  reiDre- 
sentation,  Madame  Malibran  presented  herself  again  before 
her  Parisian  admirers  in  November,  in  the  character  of  Desde- 
mona,  when  she  was  welcomed  with  such  enthusiasm  that  her 
reception  completely  unnerved  her ;  but  in  the  second  act  she 
recovered  herself,  and  sang  the  duet  with  Donzelli  in  the  very 
finest  style.  She  chose  for  her  benefit,  at  the  end  of  this  sea- 
son, OteUo,  and,  to  render  the  performance  more  attractive, 
she  conceived  the  mad  project  of  playing  the  rule  of  the  Moor. 
She  therefore  ti'ansposed  the  music,  and  produced  no  more  ef- 
fect than  did  Madame  Pasta  when  she  made  the  same  essay  in 
London.  The  round  and  delicate  form  of  a  woman  suited  ill 
the  strong  and  masculine  figure  of  the  warlike  Moor ;  and  the 
swarthy  complexion  she  was  obliged  to  assume  enlarged  her 
features  and  veiled  their  expression,  which  was  their  greatest 
charm. 

Hearing  of  his  wife's  success,  and  of  the  extraordinary  sums 
she  was  earning,  M.  IMalibran,  who  until  then  had  been  con- 
stantly assisted  by  her,  unexpectedly  came  over  from  America. 
Four  years  of  labor  had  enabled  her  to  accumulate  some  sav- 
ings, and  she  had  therefore  just  reason  to  fear  that  the  pres- 
ence of  her  husband  in  Europe  would  rob  her  of  the  fruits  of 
her  talents  and  exertions.  Her  ill-assorted  marriage  was  full 
of  painful  memories ;  and  she  prudently  declined  to  see  him, 
while  he  was  equally  determined  to  have  his  rights.  He  pro- 
posed that  they  should  share  equally  the  emoluments  she  re- 
ceived, an  arrangement  Avhich  she  passionately  refused  to  agree 
•to.    Eventually,  however,  through  the  medium  of  friends,  and 


352  QUEEXS    OF   SONG. 

at  some  pecuniary  sacrifice  ou  her  part,  a  pacific  arraugenient 
was  made ;  but  she  resolved  not  to  resume  her  performances 
while  her  husband  retained  the  j)Owcr  arbitrarily  to  seize  her 
earnings,  so  she  hastily  retired  to  Brussels,  where  she  had  pur- 
chased a  chateau  and  park.  The  unpleasant  disj)ute  was  at 
last  compromised. 

In  November  Madame  Malibran  consented  to  reappear  at 
the  Italiens  as  Ninetta.  Rubiui,  who  had  returned  to  Paris 
after  an  absence  of  six  years,  sang  with  her,  and  the  two  sing- 
ers vied  with  each  other, "  till,"  observed  a  French  critic,  "  it 
seemed  as  if  talent,  feeling,  and  enthusiasm  could  go  no  far- 
ther." Unlike  Malibran,  Rubini  was  not  a  finished  actor. 
"  He  did  not  trouble  himself  much  about  any  thing  but  the 
particular  scena  which  placed  him  in  the  foreground.  When 
this  was  past,  he  retired,  without  caring  much  for  the  story 
of  the  drama,  or  the  conduct  of  the  other  performers.  In  the 
air,  the  duet,  or  the  finale,  in  which  he  had  an  active  or  pre- 
ponderating part,  Eubini  would  suddenly  rouse  himself,  and 
display  all  the  energy  and  charm  of  his  incomparable  talent. 
It  was  in  the  tone  and  sonorousness  of  bis  organ,  in  the  artist- 
ic management  of  his  voice,  that  all  Rubini's  dramatic  power 
consisted." 

Madame  Malibran  was  now,  however,  obliged  almost  imme- 
diately to  discontinue  her  performances,  as  her  illnesses  became 
frequent  and  alarming ;  she  therefore  departed  suddenly  for 
Brussels,  leaving  a  letter  for  the  director,  Severini,  informing 
him  of  her  intention  not  to  return.  He  was  thus  reduced  to 
the  necessity  of  closing  the  theatre.  The  administration,  how- 
ever, after  having  devised  several  expedients,  bethought  them- 
selves of  working  on  Malibran's  feelings  through  the  influence 
of  a  friend.  They  implored  M.  Viardot,  who  possessed  her 
entire  confidence,  to  go  to  Brussels,  and  represent  to  her  the 
disastrous  consequences  to  the  theatre  of  her  withdrawal.  M. 
Viardot  went,  and  found  her  tranquilly  prepared  to  run  all 
risks  that  she  had  incurred  ;  but  when  he  had  fully  impressed 
on  her  mind  the  ruin  she  would  entail  on  the  administration, 
she  started  up,  exclaiming, "  You  are  right ;  I  did  not  dream 
of  that.  I  am  so  nnhappy !  Come,  I  will  return."  The  next 
day  she  was  on  her  way  to  Paris. 

But  her  health  was  rapidly  failing.  Often  a  notice  would 
appear  some  hours  before  the  opening  of  the  theatre  that  the 


MAKIA   FELICITA   MALIBEAN,  353 

performance  "was  cbauged  in  consequence  of  the  sudden  indis- 
position of  Madame  Malibvan ;  and  as  on  the  following  day  she 
would  be  perfectly  Avell,  these  accidents  were  attributed  to  ca- 
price or  to  temper.  She  resented  this  injustice,  when  a  kind 
of  coolness  arose  between  her  and  the  Parisians,  who  had  hith- 
erto adored  her.  At  last,  January  8,  1832,  she  announced  a 
farewell  performance,  and  appeared  as  Desdemona  in  Otello. 
Nothing  could  surpass  her  passionate  acting,  or  the  touching 
accents  of  her  voice.  The  audience,  electrified,  forgot  their 
former  dissatisfaction,  and  testified  their  ajDpreciation  with 
fervor  5  but  it  was  too  late:  this  was  her  last  farewell  of  the 
Parisian  public,  for  she  felt  it  impossible  to  forgive  them. 

About  the  middle  of  July  Lablache  passed  through  Brussels 
on  his  way  to  Naples,  and  learning  by  accident  that  Malibran 
was  there,  he  went  to  see  her,  although  obliged  to  depart  with- 
in twenty-four  hours.  She  received  him  w^ith  all  the  joy  of  a 
sincere  friend  ;  and  when  Lablache  told  her  that  he  Avas  going 
to  Italy,  she  declared  that  she  would  go  with  him.  He  as- 
sured her  that  he  should  be  compelled  to  quit  the  city  at  dawn 
the  next  day,  when  she  laughingly  declared  that  she  would  be 
ready ;  and  next  morning  she  was  waiting  at  the  door  of  his 
hotel  before  he  was  awake.  It  was  not  till  they  were  on  the 
frontier  of  Italy  that  she  recollected  she  had  no  passport,  and 
she  had  to  remain  some  days  till  Lablache  could  obtain  for  her 
permission  to  enter  Lombardy.  At  Milan  she  sang  at  the  soir- 
ees given  by  the  governor,  and  at  the  hous^of  the  Duke  Vis- 
conti.  She  did  not  stay  at  Milan,  but  went  on  to  Rome,  where 
she  was  engaged  at  the  Theatre  Valle.  The  lioman  public, 
however,  did  not  appreciate  her  merit,  because  she  was  so  ill- 
advised  as  to  sing  French  romances  in  the  lesson  scene  of  II 
Barbiere^  and  they  chose  to  resent  this  innovation. 

During  her  sojourn  at  Rome  Maria  learned  the  melancholy 
tidings  of  the  death  of  her  father.  She  felt  the  deepest  grief, 
and  was  ill  for  some  days  from  one  of  those  nervous  attacks 
to  which  she  was  subject. 

While  at  Rome  she  signed  an  engagement  with  Barbaja  to 
give  twelve  pei'formanccs  at  Naples  at  1000  francs  each  repre- 
sentation. She  appeared  in  Otello^  August  6, 1832,  at  the  Fon- 
do,  the  second  theatre,  where  she  sang  ten  times  out  of  the 
twelve  for  which  she  had  been  engaged.  Her  reception  by 
the  Neapolitans  was  at  first  so  cold  that  she  may  be  said  to 
23 


354  QUEENS   OF   SONG. 

have  failed.  But,  with  the  impetuosity  of  their  country,  they 
speedily  corrected  their  first  mistake,  and  when  she  sang,  the 
theatre  was  crowded  at  double  prices,  "  notwithstanding  the 
subscribers'  privileges  were  on  most  of  those  occasions  sus- 
pended, and  although  Otello,  La  Gazza  Ladra,  and  operas  of 
that  description,  were  the  only  ones  oiFered  to  a  public  long 
since  tired  even  of  the  beauties  of  Rossini,  and  proverbial  for 
its  love  of  novelty." 

Her  great  triumph,  however,  was  on  the  night  when  she 
took  her  leave  in  the  character  of  Ninetta.  "  Nothing  can  be 
imagined  finer  than  the  spectacle  afibrded  by  the  immense 
theatre  of  Sau  Carlo,  crowded  to  the  very  ceiling,  and  ringing 
with  acclamations,"  says  a  correspondent  of  one  of  the  En- 
glish papers  at  the  time.  "  Six  times  after  the  fall  of  the  cur- 
tain Madame  Malibran  was  called  forward  to  receive  the  re- 
iterated plaudits  and  adieux  of  the  assembled  multitude,  and 
indicate  by  graceful  and  exj^ressive  gestures  the  degree  to 
which  she  was  overpowered  by  fatigue  and  emotion.  The 
scene  did  not  end  within  the  walls  of  the  theatre ;  for  a  crowd 
of  the  most  enthusiastic  rushed  from  all  parts  of  the  house  to 
the  stage  dooi',  and  as  soon  as  her  sedan  came  out,  escorted  it 
with  loud  acclamations  to  the  Palazzo  Barbaja,  and  renewed 
their  salutations  as  the  charming  vocalist  ascended  the  steps." 

She  sang  at  Rome  for  three  nights,  then  returned  to  Naples, 
whence  in  the  autumn  she  went  to  Bologna,  being  engaged  to 
perform  for  eighteen  nights  for  £1440!  commencing  on  the 
13th  of  October  with  La  Gazza  Ladra.  At  Bologna  she  cre- 
ated a  furore  which,  till  then,  had  been  unknown  in  that  quiet 
city :  the  Bolognese  did  not  confine  the  expression  of  their 
rapture  to  shouts  and  plaudits ;  they  had  a  bust  of  their  ad- 
mired songstress  executed  in  marble  and  placed  in  the  peri- 
style of  the  theatre. 

In  the  spring  of  1833  Madame  Malibran  came  to  London, 
being  engaged  to  perform  in  English  oj^era  at  Drury  Lane  and 
Covent  Garden  at  a  salary  of  150  guineas  for  each  night,  and 
two  benefits  (which  produced  about  £2000).  She  appeared 
May  1  in  the  Sonnambida,  which  had  been  transposed  ex- 
pressly for  her.  After  the  Sonnamhula.,  she  jDerformed  the 
part  of  Count  Bellino  in  the  DemV s  Bridge ;  this  was  follow- 
ed by  a  new  opera  written  for  her  by  Chelard.  In  the  months 
of  May  and  June  she  appeared  for  twenty-eight  nights  at  the 


MAEIA   FELICITA   MALIBKAN.  355 

King's  Theatre,  for  wbicli  she  received  £2775.  She  also  con- 
cluded an  engagement  with  the  Duke  Visconti,  of  Milan,  for 
185  representations  —  75  in  the  autumn  and  Carnival  season 
of  1835-6,  75  in  the  corresponding  season  of  1836-7,  and  35  in 
the  autumn  of  1836,  at  a  salary  of  £18,000.  These  were  the 
highest  terms  ever  oifered  to  a  theatrical  performer  since  the 
days  of  luxurious  Rome. 

From  London  the  triumphant  singer  went  to  Najsles,  where 
she  appeared  at  the  San  Carlo,  November  14,  in  Otello.  She 
sang  with  her  sister-in-law,  Ruiz  Garcia,  in  a  new  opera  by 
Pacini,  Irene^  which  was  perfonned  November  30,  and  i^roved 
a  total  failure.  She  then  performed  Semiramide,  January  19, 
1834;  also  played  in  a  new  opera  by  Coccia,  composed  ex- 
pressly for  her,  La  Figlia  del  Aria,  which  did  not  attain  the 
third  representation.  Madame  Malibran  had  the  ill  fortune 
to  have  none  but  bad  operas  written  for  her.  She  performed, 
besides  her  pet  character,  Fidalma,  in  II  Matnmonio  Segreto, 
La  Somnambula,  Febi'uary  3,  and  Norma  on  the  25th.  In 
these  latter  parts  she  excited  the  enthusiasm  of  the  public  to 
the  highest  pitch.  Her  popularity  was  excessive.  Bonnets 
ii  la  Malibran,  caps  a  la  Malibran,  every  thing  a  la  Malibran 
were  the  rage ;  all  Italy,  in  fact,  re-echoed  her  name  with  en- 
thusiasm. On  her  arrival  at  Milan  she  had  to  struggle  against 
a  party  formed  by  the  admirers  of  Pasta ;  but,  as  soon  as  Mali- 
bran appeared  as  Norma,  she  was  proclaimed  "  la  cantante  per 
eccelenza."  She  performed  twenty  times  at  Milan,  and  obtain- 
ed an  immense  success.  A  medal,  executed  by  the  eminent 
sculptor  Valerio  Nesti,  was  struck  in  her  honor. 

Madame  Malibran  came  to  London  for  a  few  days  only,  in 
order  to  sins:  at  a  concert  for  the  benefit  of  her  brother  Manuel. 
This  journey  was  rapidly  performed,  and  she  then  went  to  Sin- 
igaglia,  having  been  engaged  by  Azzolini  to  sing  from  July  15 
to  August  11,  during  the  season  of  the  fair.  During  her  stay 
she  heard  a  beggar-girl  sing  beneath  the  window  of  her  hotel. 
Struck  with  the  beauty  of  the  voicOj^he  inquired  into  the  poor 
girl's  history,  and  finding  that  it  was  real  M^ant  which  had 
driven  her  to  sing  in  the  streets,  she  placed  the  girl  in  a  situa- 
tion where  she  would  receive  regular  musical  instruction. 

In  August  she  visited  Lucca,  where  new  triumphs  awaited 
her.  She  made  her  debut  in  a  new  opera  by  Persiani,  Inh  de 
Castro,  which  was  not  successful.     She  also  apj^eared  in  La 


356  QUEENS    OF   SONG. 

Sonnambula^  and  IMontecchi  ed  z  Capuletti^  and  after  her  last 
rejiresentation,  the  peojile  took  the  horses  from  her  carriage, 
conducting  her  home  amid  an  njiroar  of  applause  and  delight. 
Returning  to  Milan,  she  performed  in  Norma^  La  Sonnamhii- 
la^  Otello,  I  Montecchi  ed  i  Capidetti,  and  the  Maria  Stuarda 
of  Donizetti.  When  she  sang  in  the  last  opera  particularly 
(though  the  government  caused  its  immediate  withdrawal), 
the  enthusiasm  of  the  public  was  at  its  height ;  bouquets  of 
flowers,  and  leaves  of  gold  and  silver,  covered  her  when  she 
reappeared,  in  answer  to  frantic  shouts,  twenty  times. 

She  then  went  again  to  Naples.  The  Neapolitans  adored 
her.  On  one  occasion  she  specially  flattered  them :  her  car- 
riage having  been  overturned  in  the  morning,  she  sang  in  the 
evening  with  her  arm  in  a  sling  rather  than  disappoint  the 
audience.  At  Naples  she  pursued  the  same  reckless  course 
with  regard  to  her  health  and  strength  as  she  did  in  all  other 
places :  a  courageous  horsewoman,  and  a  daring  swimmer,  she 
alternated  her  exhausting  pleasures  with  fatiguing  studies.  She 
made  it  a  rule  to  practice  music  five  or  six  hours  a  day,  and 
she  would  go  in  the  evening  to  parties,  where  she  amused  her- 
self in  a  thousand  difiorent  ways,  making  lively  caricatures, 
doggerel  verses,  riddles,  conundrums,  bouts-rimes,  dancing,  jok- 
ing, laughing,  singing ;  and,  withal,  she  attended  to  her  pro- 
fessional duties  with  scrupulous  punctuality. 

On  the  eve  of  her  departure,  Gallo,  proprietor  of  the  Teatro 
Emeronnitio,  came  to  entreat  her  to  sing  once  at  his  establish- 
ment. He  had  a  wife  and  several  children,  and  was  a  very 
worthy  man,  on  the  verge  of  bankruptcy.  "  I  will  sing,"  an- 
swered she,  "  on  one  condition — that  not  a  word  is  said  about 
remuneration."  She  chose  the  part  of  Amina;  the  house  was 
crammed,  and  the  poor  man  was  saved  from  ruin.  A  vast  mul- 
titude followed  her  home,  with  an  enthusiasm  which  amount- 
ed almost  to  a  frenzy,  and  the  grateful  manager  named  his 
theatre  the  Teatro  Garcia.  On  Ash- Wednesday,  March  13, 
1835,  Madame  Malibran  l^pide  the  Neapolitans  adieu — an  eter- 
nal adieu.  Radiant  with  glory,  and  crowned  with  flowers, 
she  was  conducted  by  the  Neapolitans  to  the  faubourgs  amid 
the  eclat  of  vivats  and  acclamations. 

On  arriving  at  Venice,  her  next  appointment,  as  her  gondo- 
la approached  the  quay  fanfares  of  trumpets  announced  her 
arrival,  and  an  immense  crowd  lined  the  landing-places.     The 


MAKIA  FELICITA   MALLBPwAK.  357 

concourse  Avas  so  great  as  slie  crossed  the  Place  St.  Marc  that 
she  became  frightened,  and  took  refuge  in  a  church,  Avhich 
was  soon  filled,  and  it  was  with  much  difficulty  that  a  passage 
could  be  opened  to  her  hotel.  Her  powers  were  highly  ap- 
preciated by  the  Venetians,  whose  enthusiasm  amounted  to  de- 
lirium. If  their  idol  paused  at  a  shop  on  the  Place  St.  Marc, 
the  curious  throng  pressed  round  her,  so  that  the  police  were 
obliged  to  interfere ;  and  when  she  entered  her  gondola,  she 
was  i^ursued  by  a  flock  of  other  gondolas,  which  formed  a  sort 
of  cortege.  The  city,  at  her  departure,  presented  her  with  a 
diadem.  She  enjoyed  these  triumphs  with  a  kind  of  girlish 
pleasure,  unmixed  with  pride  or  exultation. 

In  March,  1835,  the  French  tribunal  granted  the  divorce 
from  her  husband  which  she  had  been  long  trying  to  obtain ; 
and  ten  mouths  after,  when  the  time  fixed  by  French  law  had 
elapsed,  she  married  M.  de  Beriot,  March  29, 1836,  in  the  pres- 
ence of  their  intimate  friends.  The  day  after  her  marriage 
she  distributed  1000  francs  among  the  poor.  The  Queen  of 
the  French  presented  lier  with  a  superb  agraffe  adorned  with 
jiearls.  The  couple  went  to  live  in  Brussels,  at  the  villa  which 
the  bride  had  purchased.  Their  son,  Wilfrid  de  Beriot,  was 
legalized  by  this  marriage :  they  had  had  a  daughter,  which 
did  not  live. 

During  her  sojourn  at  Milan  she  had  heard  of  the  premature 
death  of  Vincenzo  Bellini,  on  the  23d  of  September,  1835,  and 
she  set  on  foot  a  subscription  for  a  tribute  to  the  memory  of 
the  young  composer,  placing  her  own  name  for  400  francs  at 
the  head  of  the  list.  On  exactly  the  same  day  and  month  of 
the  following  year  she  herself  breathed  her  last. 

When  she  took  her  farewell  of  Milan,  the  jMilanese,  as  if  ani- 
mated by  a  presentiment  that  the  parting  was  forever,  loaded 
her  with  marks  of  distinction.  The  people  conducted  her  with 
lighted  torches  to  the  Palazzo  Visconti,  the  gardens  being  bril- 
liantly illuminated  to  receive  her,  and  military  music  posted 
on  the  canal  playing  at  her  aj^proach  the  most  insjjiring  melo- 
dies. 

During  the  season  of  1835  Madame  Malibran  was  engaged 
by  Mr.  Bunn  to  appear  at  Drury  Lane  and  Covent  Garden ; 
and  for  twenty-six  performances,  at  the  rate  of  three  a  week, 
she  received  no  less  than  .£3403.  She  performed  Isolina  in  Mr. 
Balfe's  new  opera,  TJie  Maid  ofArtois,  and  also  appeared  in 


358  QUEENS   OP   SONG. 

the  Sonnambula,  the  DeviVs  Bridge,  and  in  Fidelio  ^  a  part 
wherein  she  was  by  many  considered  to  surpass  even  the  ten- 
der and  pathetic  Schroder  Devrient.  "In  lier  English  per- 
formances," says  Mr.  Chorley,  "  her  exuberance,  not  to  say  ex- 
travagance of  style,  served  the  purpose  of  concealing  the  me- 
dioci-ity,  and  worse,  of  her  play-fellows." 

Her  labors  this  season  were  frightful.  She  had  always  been 
remarkable  for  activity,  but  her  professional  efforts  now  ex- 
cited wonder,  and  even  alarm.  She  rose  at  five  or  six  in  the 
morning,  and  practiced  in  her  dressing-room  for  several  hours, 
at  the  same  time  inventing  attitudes  before  the  looking-glass. 
It  was  thus  one  day  the  attitude  struck  her  which  produced 
such  an  effect  in  Gli  Orazi,  when  the  news  of  the  death  of  her 
lover  is  announced  to  the  heroine.  "  While  the  rehearsals  of 
the  Maid  ofArtois  were  going  on  from  day  to  day — and  Ma- 
dame Malibrau's  rehearsals  were  not  so  many  hours  of  saun- 
tering indifference  —  she  would,  immediately  after  they  were 
finished,  dart  to  one  or  two  concerts,  and  perhaps  conclude  the 
day  by  singing  at  an  evening  party.  She  pursued  the  same 
course  during  her  performance  of  that  arduous  character." 
She  sang  at  concerts,  at  royal  and  noble  houses,  and  at  parties 
for  her  own  amusement. 

In  April,  1836,  just  after  her  marriage,  Madame  de  Beriot 
came  to  England  again,  and  soon  after  her  arrival  went  out 
one  day  with  a  riding -party,  when,  being  thrown  from  her 
horse,  she  sustained  a  serious  injury.  From  this  she  never  re- 
covered, having  neglected  to  attend  to  herself  while  the  huTt 
was  fresh.  Not  only  did  she  refuse  to  be  bled,  not  only  did 
she  conceal  the  affair  from  her  husband,  whom  she  tenderly 
loved,  but  she  actually  sang  the  same  night !  She  was  now 
at  the  height  of  her  marvelous  talent,  having  never  ceased  to 
improve.  Her  voice,  always  wonderful  from  its  extent,  had 
acquired  some  additional  tones  in  the  upper  register,  and  a 
prodigious  facility  in  certain  tours  de  force.  She  performed 
at  Covent  Garden  with  Templeton,  Seguin,  and  Duruset,  chief- 
ly in  Fldelio. 

In  September  she  came  again  to  England.  Her  agonies 
from  the  effects  of  her  fall  were  sometimes  fearful,  but  she 
struggled  with  all  the  energy  of  her  character,  all  the  power 
of  her  mind,  against  sufferings  which  would  have  crushed  an- 
other, never  yielding  till  death  seized  her.     She  was  engaged 


MAEIA   FELICITA   MALIBEAN.  359 

at  Manchester,  where  she  was  to  sing  at  the  Musical  Festival. 
Immediately  on  arriving  there,  she  went  to  the  hotel  where 
Lablache  and  the  other  vocalists  were  staying.  She  was  then 
ill,  but  in  a  state  of  unnatural,  feverish  excitement.  The  kind- 
hearted  Lablache,  shocked  at  her  wild  gayety,  spoke  to  her 
husband — in  vain.  At  the  rehearsals  she  was  either  crying  or 
laughing  hysterically  ;  but  she  persisted  in  going  through  the 
rehearsals,  lest  the  public  should  charge  her  with  caprice,  thus 
exhausting  herself  unnecessarily  when  she  ought  to  have  taken 
rest.  The  day  before  her  first  performance  at  the  Collegiate 
Church,  she  sang  no  less  than  fourteen  pieces  in  her  room  at 
the  hotel,  among  her  Italian  friends.  In  vain  she  was  caution- 
ed— in  vain  did  her  good  friend  Lablache  endeavor  to  check 
her  insane  flights. 

The  first  morning,  having  been  carried  out  in  hysterics,  the 
dying  cantatrice  insisted  on  returning  and  singing  the  air  of 
Abraham,  by  Cimarosa,  Her  profound  sadness,  the  penetra- 
ting accents  of  her  voice,  the  dejection  of  her  aspect,  made  a 
deep  impression  on  the  audience.  In  the  evening  she  went  to 
the  theatre,  and,  despite  her  suffering,  sang  as  usual.  She  at- 
tempted again  to  sing  the  next  day,  but  fainted,  and  was  car- 
ried home.  By  a  powerful  efibrt,  she  sang  in  the  evening  the 
duet  of  Andronico,  by  Mercadante,  with  Madame  Caradori 
Allan. 

Like  the  expiring  flame,  which  is  most  brilliant  at  its  last 
flicker,  the  voice  of  Maria  Malibran  was  never  more  resplen- 
dent, never  more  pure  or  clear  than  in  these  her  dying  mo- 
ments. The  touching  melancholy  of  her  singing,  her  face, 
pale  and  expressive  as  that  of  a  beautiful  spectre,  her  accents 
inspired  by  a  soul  ready,  as  it  were,  to  wing  its  way  from  earth, 
awakened  an  electric  thrill  of  sympathy  and  admiration  in  the 
hearts  of  the  audience.  At  the  end  of  the  duet,  the  assembly, 
entranced  by  such  beauty,  such  genius,  and  forgetting  the  con- 
dition of  the  unfortunate  vocalist,  redemanded  its  repetition 
with  enthusiasm.  The  echoes  of  applause  struck  to  the  heart 
of  the  dying  singer.  Ilcr  cheeks  were  flushed,  she  raised  her 
head,  her  eyes  shone  with  preternatural  fire,  and  she  recom- 
menced the  duet.  Her  voice  was  astounding :  her  soul  ap- 
peared to  be  poured  forth  in  each  note,  and  a  brilliant  shake 
at  the  top  of  the  voice  concluded  this  final  effort. 

She  was  carried  from  the  theatre  to  her  death-bed.     Faint- 


360  QUEENS    OF   SONG. 

ing-fits,  hysterical  attacks,  and  horrible  convulsions  terrified 
those  about  her.  The  greatest  sympathy  was  excited  in  Man- 
chester, indeed  all  over  the  country,  and  in  Paris.  Bulletins 
of  her  health  were  issued  in  all  the  Manchester  journals,  and 
people  called  constantly  to  make  inquiries.  The  malady  made 
the  most  rapid  and  irresistible  progress.  Her  last  thoughts 
were  of  De  Beriot.  Recovering  from  one  of  her  fits  of  death- 
like stupor,  she  anxiously  asked  if  he  had  performed  well,  and 
if  the  pubhc  had  applauded  him.  She  died  on  the  23d  of  Sep- 
tember, 1836,  of  nervous  fever,  at  the  age  of  twenty-nine.  She 
had  always  had  a  presentiment  that  she  should  die  young. 

The  death  of  the  gifted,  beloved  artiste  produced  a  painful 
sensation  throughout  Eurojae.  She  was  universally  and  deeply 
regretted,  and  her  loss  was  felt  almost  as  a  public  calamity. 
It  was  maliciously  said  at  the  time  that  she  sank  under  the 
mistaken  treatment  of  her  own  physician.  Dr.  Belluomini,  who 
was  also  her  intimate  friend,  and  in  whom  she  placed  the  most 
implicit  confidence.  But  before  he  could  be  summoned  she 
had  been  treated  by  some  resident  physicians,  and  had  been 
bled.  When  she  saw  Dr.  Belluomini,  she  exclaimed,  "  I  am 
a  slain  woman,  for  they  have  bled  me." 

Magnificent  obsequies  were  paid  to  her  in  Manchester.  Her 
remains  were  at  first  interred  in  the  church-yard  of  the  cathe- 
dral there,  but  not  long  after  were  exhumed  and  transported 
to  Brussels,  her  mother  coming  to  England  for  that  purpose. 
There  was  a  dispute  between  De  Beriot  and  tlie  authorities  of 
Manchester  as  to  his  right  to  remove  her  body. 

A  circular  chapel  was  raised  to  her  memory  at  Lacken  by 
De  Beriot.  A  statue  of  Madame  Malibran,  in  the  costume  of 
Norma,  sculptured  in  white  marble  by  Geefs,  stands  in  the  cen- 
tre, faintly  illumined  by  a  single  ray  of  light  admitted  from  a 
dome,  and  surrounded  by  masses  of  shadow.  "  It  appears," 
says  the  Countess  de  Merlin,  "like  a  fantastic  thought — like 
the  dream  of  a  poet." 

Her  first  husband,  Malibran,  died  in  Paris,  November,  1836, 
of  an  attack  of  apoplexy. 

In  August,  1840,  De  Beriot  married,  at  Lacken,  a  young 
German,  Mdlle.  Huber,  daughter  of  a  magistrate  of  Vienna, 
and  who,  left  an  orphan  at  an  early  age,  had  been  adopted  by 
the  Prince  Dietrischten  Preskau. 

A  collection  of  Madame  Malibran's  compositions  was  pub- 
lished at  Paris  after  her  death  by  Troupenas. 


.J  aught 

jv:-'- 


part.  1 1 


GITTT.TA     /^T.TOT 


36- 


360 


QUEENS    OP   SONG. 


COIlSl 


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malady  ir.: 


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at  th 


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a  wliite  marbj  in  the  •. 

'y  iiiuu  .        '  '•  a  fclngle  raj  c/i  ugai  aa^-i.^ted  fom 


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de 


aiibraii,  died  iii  Paris,  Novembo 

■'•'aJ  n.i.arried,  ""  f.n 

of  a  3 

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J 


GIULIA  GEISI.  36-. 


CHAPTER  XXVm. 

GIULIA   GRIST. 

M.  Gaetano  Geisi,  an  officer  of  engineers  in  the  service  of 
Napoleon  under  the  then  existing  kingdom  of  Italy,  had  two 
daughters,  Giuditta,  born  in  1802,  and  Giulietta,  born  at  Milan, 
July  2, 1812,  on  the  fete  of  St.  Giulia.  Their  aunt,  the  once 
celebrated  Grassini,  was  the  only  member  of  the  family  who 
was  a  musician,  and  from  the  mother's  side  they  must  have  in- 
herited the  gift  of  song. 

Giuditta  was  a  singer,  and  enjoyed  a  good  reputation  on  the 
Italian  stage.  She  had  a  mezzo-sojirano  voice,  almost  a  con- 
tralto, of  a  hard  quality,  and  not  very  flexible,  which  she  had 
much  difficulty  in  softening.  Her  talents  developed  themselves 
early.  At  sixteen  she  was  favorably  known  as  a  concert-singer 
at  Milan.  Two  years  later,  in  1823,  she  sang  at  Vienna,  in 
Rossini's  Bianco,  e  Faliero,  with  the  already  renowned  Hen- 
rietta Sontag.  She  afterward  sang  at  the  theatres  of  Milan, 
Parma,  Florence,  Genoa,  and  Venice.  Her  friends  considered 
that  the  mantle  of  the  great  Grassini  had  fallen  on  her  shoul- 
ders, and  that,  being  trained  in  the  same  grand  school,  she 
would  be  able  to  tread  closely  in  her  aunt's  footsteps. 

The  little  Giulia's  health  was  so  delicate  that  her  parents  did 
not  wish  her  to  enter  on  the  study  of  music,  the  least  applica- 
tion being  injurious  to  her ;  she  was,  therefore,  placed  for  edu- 
cation, at  the  age  of  eight,  in  the  convent  of  Mantellette,  in  the 
small  town  of  Gorizia.  But  she  was  ambitious  of  following 
the  career  of  her  aunt,  and  the  nuns,  pleased  with  her  childish 
beauty,  took  some  pains  to  teach  her  music.  She  learned  to 
play  the  piano  very  prettily,  but  did  not  make  much  advance 
in  musical  training. 

After  leaving  the  convent,  when  fourteen,  her  home  was  gen- 
erally with  her  sister,  either  at  Milan,  or  in  the  places  where 
Giuditta's  engagements  called  her.  It  was  soon  remarked  that 
when  the  elder  sister  was  practicing  solfeggi  or  studying  her 
part,  the  younger  would  listen  attentively.     Giulia  had  an  ex- 


364  QUEER'S    OF   SONG. 

cellent  ear,  a  quick  memory,  and  could  repeat  fluently  and  cor- 
rectly tlie  most  difiicult  passages  which  she  had  once  heard. 
She  astonished  her  family  by  the  accuracy  with  which  she  im- 
itated the  gestures,  the  carriage,  and  even  the  singing  of  art- 
istes whom  she  had  opportunities  of  hearing.  Giuditta,  who 
appreciated  these  evidences  of  vocal  and  mimetic  talent,  would 
listen  with  delight  to  the  lively  efforts  of  her  young  sister,  and 
then,  clasping  her  fondly  in  her  arms,  prophesy  that  she  would 
be  "  the  glory  of  her  race."  "  Thou  shalt  be  more  than  thy 
sister,  my  Giuliettina,"  she  would  exclaim.  "Thou  shalt  be 
more  than  thy  aunt !  It  is  Giuditta  tells  thee  so ;  believe  it." 
The  only  defect  in  Giulia's  voice — certainly  a  terrible  one — 
was  a  chronic  hoarseness,  which  seemed  a  bar  to  her  advance- 
ment as  a  vocalist. 

Her  parents  resolved  that  Giulia  should  have  regular  lessons 
in  singing ;  and  she  entered  the  Conservatorio  of  her  native 
town,  where  her  sister  had  obtained  for  her  musical  training. 
The  early  talent  she  developed,  under  the  direction  of  the  com- 
poser Marliani,  was  remarkable.  That  she  might  continue  her 
studies  uninterruptedly,  she  was  sent  to  Bologna,  to  her  uncle, 
Colonel  Ragani,  husband  of  Grassini,  by  whom  she  was  put 
under  the  care  of  the  learned  Giacomo  Guglielmi,  son  of  the 
celebrated  composer,  who  during  three  years  devoted  himself 
entirely  to  her  musical  education.  Gradually  the  lovely  qual- 
ity of  her  voice  began  to  be  manifest,  and  its  original  blem- 
ishes disappeared,  her  tones  acquiring  depth,  power,  and  rich- 
ness. 

On  leaving  the  Conservatorio  she  went  to  live  at  Bologna 
with  her  sistei*,  who,  being  much  occupied  with  her  own  du- 
ties, placed  Giulia  under  the  tuition  of  Filippo  Celli.  He  taught 
her  for  three  months  only,  as  he  was  obliged  to  go  to  Rome  to 
produce  his  opera  oi  Amalia  e  Palmer  ;  but  his  instructions, 
brief  as  they  were,  formed  a  solid  basis  for  her  after  studies. 
She  also  received  some  lessons  from  Madame  Boccabadati,  a 
near  relative  of  the  singer  of  that  name :  from  her,  however, 
she  learned  but  little. 

By  continued  exertions  on  her  own  part,  aided  by  her  in- 
structors, her  musical  education  had  advanced,  and  Giulia,  en- 
couraged by  her  friends,  proposed  to  venture  on  her  debut  on 
the  stage.  Giuditta  made  all  the  necessary  arrangements  with 
the  manager  of  the  Teatro  Comraunale,  Bologna ;  and  the  young 


\ 


GIULIA   GKISI.  365 

girl  appeared,  1828,  in  the  little  part  of  Emma,  in  Rossini's 
Zehidra.  She  Avas  just  seventeen;  her  voice  was  then  a  low 
mezzo-soprano,  and  she  Avas  iu  all  the  freshness  of  her  youth- 
ful beauty.     Her  triumph  was  complete. 

Giuditta  shed  tears  of  joy  over  the  brilliant  success  of  her 
sister;  and  Rossini,  Avho  was  then  in  Bologna,  predicted  a 
brilliant  future  for  the  young  vocalist.  The  director  of  the 
theatre  engaged  her  immediately  for  the  season  of  the  Carni- 
val, and  in  1829  she  appeared  as  prima  donna  in  many  operq^, 
such  as  II  BarUere^  Torvaldo  e  I)orliska,  and  in  Za  Sposa  di 
Provincial  which  last  was  composed  expressly  for  her  by  Mil- 
ototti. 

So  dazzling  a  debut  drew  all  the  managerial  eyes  of  Italy 
toward  Giulia  Grisi,  and  one  of  those  Italians  who  are  always 
on  the  look-out  to  decoy  unwary  vocalists.  Signer  Lanari,  im- 
presario at  Florence,  flew  to  Bologna  to  secure  the  prize,  and 
induced  the  young  singer,  as  yet  unconscious  of  her  own  value, 
to  bind  herself  exclusively  to  his  service  for  the  term  of  six 
years,  at  a  salary  which  he  ought  to  have  blushed  to  ofier  to  a 
mediocre  performer.  Her  father  was  at  Milan,  and  could  not 
be  consulted,  and  the  young  debutante  being  inexperienced, 
the  engagement  was  signed. 

Mdlle.  Grisi  appeared  in  I Montecehi  ed  i  Capidetti,  which 
Bellini,  then  a  young  and  struggling  composer,  had  just  writ- 
ten expre^y  for  her  sister  at  Venice.  Few  of  Bellini's  operas 
enjoyed  s*great  a  share  of  popularity  in  Italy  as  this,  which, 
liowever,  he  had  dashed  ofi'  without  premeditation  in  fifteen 
days,  at  the  urgent  request  of  the  Venetian  manager,  to  re- 
place a  piece  which  had  been  condemned.  She  also  performed 
in  II  Barhiere  di  Sevic/lia,  and  in  the  Giulietta  e  Borneo  of 
Vaccai ;  and  she  was  considered  the  most  charming  Juliet  ever 
seen  on  the  lyric  stage. 

Her  triumph  was  even  greater  here  than  at  Bologna.  She 
created  quite  a  furore.  La  bellissima  GiuHetta  was  hailed  a 
Queen  of  Song,  and  became  the  topic  of  conversation  among 
the  dilettanti.  In  her  second  season  she  sang  in"  an  opera  com- 
posed for  her  by  the  maestro  Celli,  who  was  charmed  witli  the 
manner  iu  which  she  interpreted  his  work  B'Ezia,  and  who 
save  her  some  lessons. 

In  the  Carnival  of  1830  she  appeared  as  Amena'ide,  in  the 
Vestcde  of  Pacini,  and  in  Bicciardo  e  Zordlde,  with  the  cele- 


366  QUEENS   OF   SONG. 

brated  tenor  Davide ;  also  in  Tancredi.  This  year  sTie  sang 
at  Pisa,  during  the  fete  of  La  Luminara,  a  festival  which  recurs 
every  five  years,  when  the  Pisans  for  three  days  illuminate 
their  city  most  brilliantly.  On  this  occasion  the  Pisans  dedi- 
cate festal  ofierings  to  all  the  saints,  interchange  splendid  re- 
pasts, and  have  operas  performed  twice  a  day.  Giulia  Grisi, 
therefore,  sang  in  Semirmnide  in  the  morning,  and  Otello  in 
the  evening. 

Lanari,  having  now  made  a  little  fortune  by  his  lucky  spec- 
ulation, coolly  transferred  his  young  prima  donna,  for  a  hand- 
some consideration,  to  Crivelli,  then  director  of  La  Scala.  The 
company  included  Madame  Pisaroni,  Giuditta  Grisi,  and  Porto. 
Giulia  first  performed  in  a  new  opera  by  Pacini,  II  Corsare, 
founded  on  Lord  Byron's  poem  of  the  Corsair,  in  which  she 
took  the  part  of  Medora. 

It  was  at  Milan  'that  Mdlle.  Grisi  became  acquainted  with 
Pasta,  whom  she  ardently  admired,  and  who  took  a  friendly 
interest  in  her.  Pasta  declared,  "I  can  honestly  return  to  you 
the  compliments  paid  me  by  your  aunt,  and  say  that  I  believe 
you  are  worthy  to  succeed  us."  Here  she  enjoyed  the  advan- 
tage of  studying  the  great  lyric  tragedienne,  with  whom  she 
occasionally  performed :  not  a  look,  a  tone,  a  gesture  of  her 
great  model  escaped  her.  She  was  given  the  part  of  Jane  Sey- 
mour in  Donizetti's  Anna  Bolena,  which  she  looked  and  acted 
to  perfection.  Pasta  personating  the  unfortunate  Queen.  Ma- 
dame Pasta,  struck  with  the  genius  displayed  byWer  young 
rival,  exclaimed,  "Tu  iras  loin !  tu  prendras  ma  place!  tu  seras 
Pasta !"  Bellini,  who  was  then  in  Milan,  engaged  in  the  com- 
position of  his  Norma,  overwhelmed  her  with  applause  and 
congratulations,  intermingled  with  allusions  to  the  part  he  had 
in  contemplation  for  her — that  of  Adalgisa. 

In  November,  1831,  there  was  a  strenuous  rivalry  between 
the  two  theatres  of  Milan,  La  Scala  and  the  Carcano.  The 
vocal  company  at  the  latter  comprised  Pasta,  Lina  Roser  (now 
Madame  Balfe),  Elisa  Orlandi,  Eugenie  Martinet,  and  other  la- 
dies ;  Rubiui,  Mariani,  and  Galli  being  the  leading  male  sing- 
ers. The  composers  were  Bellini,  Donizetti,  and  Majocchi. 
At  the  Scala,  which  was  still  under  the  direction  of  Crivelli, 
then  a  very  old  man,  were  Giulietta  Grisi,  Amalia  Schutz,  and 
Pisaroni,  with  Mari,  Bonfigli,  Pocchini,  Anbaldi,  etc.  To  this 
company  Giuditta  Grisi  was  added,  and  a  new  opera  by  Coc- 


I 


GITJUA   GKISI.  367 

cia,  entitled  Enrico  di  3Iontfort,  was  brought  out,  supported 
by  the  talents  of  the  sisters  Grisi ;  but  it  proved  a  failure.  In 
December  Madame  Pasta  transferred  her  services  to  the  Scala, 
and  Donzelli  arrived  to  resume  his  place  as  primo  tenor.  Don- 
zelli  was,  if  not  absolutely  the  first,  in  the  very  front  rank  of 
tenor  singers.  His  voice  was  cleai-,  brilliant,  and  powerful, 
with  a  metallic  tone  of  vibrating  quality ;  his  conception  was 
vigorous,  his  manner  was  energetic  or  tender  as  the  expres- 
sion demanded,  and  his  style  at  once  forcible  and  florid. 

Bellini's  new"  opera  of  Norma  was  immediately  put  in  re- 
hearsal. To  Pasta,  of  course,  was  assigned  the  character  of 
the  Druid  priestess,  and  to  Giulia  Grisi  was  confided  the  grace- 
ful part  of  Adalgisa ;  DonzelU  was  Pollio.  Bellini  was  quite 
confident  of  the  success  of  his  opera,  and  during  the  rehearsals, 
while  seated  at  the  piano-forte  in  the  orchestra,  would  watch 
with  delight  the  careful  study  the  singers  were  making  of  their 
parts.  Pasta,  at  the  last  rehearsal,  took  much  notice  of  Giuli- 
etta,  and  complimented  her  both  on  her  voice  and  on  her  con- 
ception of  the  character  of  Adalgisa,  frequently  turning  to  Bel- 
lini, and  exclaiming,  in  her  usual  mixture  of  Italian  and  French, 
"Bonissima!  bene — tres  bien — pas  mal,  la  piccola!"  On  the 
1st  of  January,  1832,  iVbnna  was  produced.  Great  expecta- 
tions were  entertained  by  the  public,  for  the  music  of  Bellini 
was  exceedingly  popular,  and  it  was  said  this  would  be  his 
masterpiece.  The  Scala  was  crowded  to  the  ceiling,  and  Bel- 
lini seated  himself  at  the  piano-forte  in  high  sjjirits. 

Norma  was  the  favorite  work  of  its  gifted  composer.  One 
day,  when  he  was  in  Paris,  a  lady  asked  hira  which  of  his  ope- 
ras he  considered  to  most  nearly  approach  perfection.  The 
question  was  certainly  rather  broad.  Poor  Bellini,  naturally 
modest  and  sensitive,  blushed  scarlet.  He  made  some  evasive 
reply,  but  the  lady  persisted.  "  If,"  said  she,  "  you  were  at 
sea  with  all  y owv  2M'>'titions,  and  the  ship  Avere  sinking — " 

"Ah!"  cried  he,  without  allowing  her  to  finish,  "I  would 
leave  all  to  save  La  Norma  P'' 

Strange  to  say,  the  first  reception  of  this  opera  was  by  no 
means  brilliant.  The  audience  did  not  cai'c  about  the  chorus 
of  priests ;  Donzelli  exerted  himself  in  vain  to  charm  them 
with  his  cabaletta :  the  audience  shrugged  their  shoulders  and 
pronounced  it  to  be  "  commonplace ;"  and  even  Casta  Diva 
made  no  impression,  though  Pasta  had  never,  perhaps,  sung 


368  QUEENS    OF   SONG. 

^so  well.  Bellini  trembled  with  anxiety.  Then  Adalgisa  ap- 
peared, and  began  "  Sgombra  e  la  sacra  selva ;"  the  clear  res- 
onant tones  of  Giulia  Grisi's  voice  touched  the  hearts  of  the 
listeners,  and  they  began  to  applaud.  Nevertheless,  as  the 
curtain  fell  on  the  first  act,  Pasta  regarded  the  piece  as  a  fias- 
co, and  her  forebodings  were  shared  by  the  other  performers. 
The  second  act  went  coldly  till  the  duet  between  Norma  and 
Adalgisa,  "  Deh !  con  te !"  which  created  a  furore  and  was  en- 
cored. Then  Pasta  turned  to  Giulia,  and  exclaimed  in  a  low 
tone,  "Ecco  i  couscitori!"  The  success  of  the  opera,  Avhich 
had  been  despaired  of,  was  now  assured,  and  Norma  was  per- 
formed forty  times  during  the  Carnival. 

Encouraged  by  Pasta,  Giulia  Grisi  declared  that  she,  too, 
would  become  a  great  tragedienne.  "  How  I  should  love  to 
play  Norma !"  she  exclaimed  to  Bellini  one  night  behind  the 
scenes.  "  Wait  twenty  years  and  we  shall  see."  "  I  will  play 
Norma  in  spite  of  you,  and  in  less  than  twenty  years,"  she  re- 
torted. The  young  man  smiled  incredulously,  and  muttered, 
"  A  poco !  a  poco !"     But  Grisi  kept  her  word. 

Her  genius  was  now  fully  apjDreciated,  and  she  had  obtained 
one  of  those  triumphs  which  form  the  basis  of  a  great  renown. 
With  astonishing  ease  she  passed  from  Semiramide  to  Anna 
Bolena,  then  to  Desdemona,  to  Donna  Anna,  to  Elena  in  the 
Donna  del  Lago.  In  Semiramide  she  had  that  lofty  and  gra- 
cious manner  which  is  jDeculiar  to  her. 

The  young  artiste  had  now  learned  her  true  value,  and  was 
aware  of  the  injury  she  was  sufiering  from  remaining  in  the 
service  to  which  she  had  foolishly  bound  herself:  she  was 
now  twenty-four,  and  time  was  passing  away.  Her  father's 
repeated  endeavors  to  obtain  more  reasonable  terms  for  his 
daughter  from  Lanari  proved  fruitless.  He  urged  that,  his 
daughter  having  entered  into  the  contract  without  his  knowl- 
edge, and  while  she  v/as  a  minor,  it  was  illegal.  "  Then,  if 
you  knew  absolutely  nothing  of  the  matter,  and  it  was  alto- 
gether without  your  cognizance,"  retorted  Lanari,  imperturb- 
ably,  "  how  did  it  happen  that  her  salary  was  always  paid  to 
you?" 

Intolerant  of  injustice,  and  indignant  at  the  advantage  taken 
of  her,  Giulietta  suddenly  broke  her  engagement.  Giuditta 
and  her  aunt,  Madame  Grassini  Ragani,  were  in  Paris,  and  to 
them  she  resolved  to  fly.    The  Carnival  was  crowded  at  Milan, 


GIULIA   GKISI.  369 

and  the  manager  had  engaged  Pasta  for  twenty  extra  nights, 
relying  on  Grisi  as  second  donna.  Having  gained  her  father's 
consent  to  her  plan,  Giulia  went  to  Marliani,  a  warm  and  de- 
voted friend,  and  begged  his  assistance.  He  promised  to  see 
her  across  the  frontier,  and  to  provide  for  her  a  quick  transit 
through  Switzerland  to  France. 

The  fugitives  started  late  on  a  Friday,  the  Opera  being 
closed  on  that  night,  and  arrived  safely  at  Bellinzona,  when 
they  suddenly  discovered,  to  their  horror,  that  they  had  for- 
gotten their  passports.  It  was  decided  that  Giulia  should 
make  use  of  her  maid's  passport  to  cross  the  frontier,  as  she 
and  the  girl  bore  some  resemblance  in  point  of  height,  age,  and 
complexion.  Marliani  had  no  resource  but  to  return  for  the 
papers ;  and  the  fair  cantatrice,  once  in  safety,  was  to  await 
him  and  the  femme-de-chambre  on  the  other  side  the  frontier. 
But,  urged  by  fear,  she  resumed  her  flight,  and  for  eleven  days 
and  nights  pursued  her  solitary  journey,  through  bad  roads 
and  over  mountain  passes  covered  with  snow.  It  was  not  un- 
til she  threw  herself  into  her  aunt's  arms,  half  dead  with  fatigue 
and  terror,  that  she  remembered,  too  late,  her  promise  to  wait 
for  her  dear  old  teacher. 

Giuditta  and  Madame  Grassini  welcomed  her  with  joy,  and 
it  only  remained  to  obtain  an  engagement.  Rossini,  Robert, 
and  Severini  formed  the  triumvirate  who  governed  the  Opera. 
Rossini  remembered  that  he  had  predicted  a  glowing  future 
for  Giulia  Grisi  some  four  years  previously,  and  an  arrange- 
ment was  made  without  any  difliculty  for  her  to  appear  at  the 
Favart,  not  as  a  debutante,  but  with  a  definite  engagement  to 
replace  Madame  Malibran.  She  appeared  for  the  first  time 
before  a  Parisian  audience  on  the  13th  of  October,  1832,  in 
Semiramide.  She  at  once  became  a  favorite,  and  durinir  the 
season  of  six  months  she  increased  in  power  and  rose  higher 
in  the  opinion  of  the  public. 

In  November,  1832,  Giuditta  Grisi  (who  had  appeared  in 
London  during  the  summer  at  the  King's  Theatre)  made  her 
debut  in  Bellini's  La  Stj'cmiera.  Her  sonorous,  vibrating 
voice,  so  full  of  charm  and  beauty,  the  mingled  grace  and  en- 
ergy of  her  singing  and  acting,  her  beautiful  face,  grave  and 
expressive,  her  gestures  replete  with  truth  and  originality,  her 
large  and  noble  manner  of  phrasing  the  music,  obtained  for 
her  a  triumph.  The  sisters  also  sang  together  in  Bellini's  / 
24  Q2 


370  QUEEXS    OF   SONG. 

Montecchi  ed  i  Ccqyiiletti^  and  Giuditta  looked  a  gallant  young 
cavalier. 

Then  followed  Don  Giovan7ii,  in  which  Giulia,  as  Zerlina, 
was  graceful  and  charming ;  but  her  figure  was  too  command- 
ing, her  voice  too  regal  for  the  village  coquette.  Rubini  was 
Don  Ottavio ;  Tamburini,  Don  Giovanni.  Tamburini  was  a 
singer  of  great  brilliancy  and  power ;  his  voice  was  a  fine 
baritone,  well  defined,  round,  rich,  clear,  and  of  wonderful  flex- 
ibility. He  was  an  accomjjlished  actor,  full  of  spirit  and  gay- 
ety ;  he  was  handsome,  his  figure  was  manly,  and  his  air  noble 
and  prepossessing. 

Immediately  after  Do7i  Giovanoii,  Giulia  Grisi  appeared  as 
Anna  Bolena,  with  Madame  Tadolini,  Santini,  and  Rubini; 
when,  despite  the  unavoidable  comparison  with  Pasta,  she  won 
an  ovation. 

Giuditta  retired  at  the  end  of  the  season,  having  amassed  a 
competent  fortune,  and,  marrying  an  Italian  gentleman,  retired 
to  Italy.  She  died  May  1,  1840,  at  her  country  seat  at  Cre- 
mona. 

Giulia  also  retired ;  but  she  reappeared  on  the  1st  of  Octo- 
ber, 1833,  as  Anna  Bolena,  with  Tamburini  and  two  new  can- 
didates for  public  favor,  Mdlle.  Schutz  and  the  young  Russian 
tenor  Ivanofl'.  It  was  remarked  that  Mdlle.  Grisi  had  improved 
singularly.  She  had  passed  the  six  months  of  leisure  in  the 
study  of  her  art,  and  the  result  was  that  the  once  trembling 
debutante  had  become  a  Queen  of  Song.  Her  name  was  now 
mentioned  in  the  same  breath  with  that  of  Catalani,  Pasta, 
Malibran.  She  was  no  longer  Jane  Seymour  or  Adalgisa,  but 
Anna  Bolena — Norma ! 

As  a  singer  she  was  to  be  placed  apart  from  all  contempo- 
rary artistes.  Her  gifts,  like  her  beauty,  were  rare  and  ex- 
ceptional. She  united  the  nobleness,  the  tragic  inspiration  of 
Pasta  with  the  fire  and  energy  of  Malibran.  Her  voice,  a 
pure  soprano  of  the  very  finest  quality,  extended  over  two  oc- 
taves, and  she  could  sing  without  an  eflfort  to  C  in  alt.  Her 
low  notes  were  occasionally  weak,  but  the  middle  ones  were 
full,  mellow,  and  deliciously  sweet.  Her  intonation  was  ex- 
quisitely just,  and  her  execution  neat  and  finished.  Not  a  note 
escaped  her  that  was  not  irreproachable.  As  an  actress,  she 
had  all  the  qualities  which  go  to  make  a  great  tragedian.  She 
seldom  represented  the  same  situation  twice  in  the  same  man- 


GIULIA   GRISI.  3  "71 

ner,  yet  she  was  always  lofty  aucl  noble — a  magnificent  woman, 
a  superb  tragedian,  an  exquisite  singer. 

In  October,  1833,  she  appeared  as  Kosina  in  Tl  Barbiere  di 
Seviglia,  Tamburini  performing  Figaro,  and  Rubini  Almaviva. 
She  sang  the  variations  of  Rode,  in  the  lesson  scene,  in  a  man- 
ner which  produced  an  electric  eflect.  This  opera  was  fol- 
lowed hy  La  Gazza  Ladm,  in  which  the  young  prima  donna 
obtained  a  triumph  as  Ninetta.  Tamburini  performed  the  part 
of  her  father,  and  Ivanoff  took  for  the  first  time  the  role  of 
Gianetto,  the  betrothed  of  Ninetta.  After  this,  Bellini's  I 
Montecchi  ed  i  Capxdetti  was  performed ;  Caroline  Unglier, 
who  made  her  debut  that  season,  supporting  the  character  of 
Romeo.  Madame  TJngher  was  decidedly  clever,  but  her  ap- 
pearance was  wofully  against  her,  being  that  of  "  an  under- 
sized, colorless  woman,"  with  a  plain  countenance  expressive 
of  nothing  in  particular.  In  December  Don  Giovanni  was 
produced.  Giulia  Grisi  this  time  took  the  more  appropriate 
part  of  Donna  Anna.  Madame  Ungher  was  Zerlina ;  Madame 
Schutz,  Elvira ;  Tamburini  performed  Don  Giovanni ;  Santini, 
Leporello. 

Bellini's  last  opera,  i"  P?«7'to?ii,  was  composed  by  him  at 
Paris  in  1834,  and  performed  for  the  first  time  on  January 
24th,  1835,  with  Grisi,  Rubini,  Tamburini,  and  Lablache — an 
unrivaled  quartette — in  the  principal  characters. 

Its  production  created  the  utmost  enthusiasm,  and  the  duet, 
"  Suona  la  tromba,"  especially,  was  echoed  by  thunders  of  ap- 
plause. Rossini,  writing  of  this  morceau  to  a  friend  at  Milan, 
said,  "  I  need  not  describe  the  duo  for  the  two  basses.  You 
must  have  heard  it  where  you  are:"  a  remark  very  just,  but 
more  sarcastic  than  complimentary.  Bellini  was  made  a  mem- 
ber of  the  Legion  of  Honor,  and  received  the  most  flattering 
marks  of  distinction  from  government.  He  arranged  with  the 
Academic  to  write  a  French  opera,  and  was  already  medita- 
ting a  new  work  for  the  San  Carlo ;  but  the  perseverance  with 
which  he  pursued  his  labors  was  the  fiital  cause  of  his  death. 
Eight  months  after  the  production  oi  I Puritani  he  expired, 
fancying  in  his  last  moments  of  delirium  that  he  was  present 
at  a  representation  of  this  opera  at  the  Salle  Favart. 

In  1834  Mdlle.  Grisi  came  to  London,  and  made  her  debut 
at  Her  Majesty's  Theatre,  April  8,  in  La  Gazza  Ladra.  Tu- 
multuous  applause  greeted  this  bright   musical  star.      Her 


372  QUEENS   OF   SONG. 

charming  person,  beautiful  countenance,  fascinating  manner, 
and  delightful  voice,  made  her  a  favorite  at  once.  On  April 
22  she  ajDpeared  as  Desdemona  in  Otello.  Rubini  was  the 
Moor :  his  Otello  was,  with  the  exception  of  Garcia's,  the  best 
ever  seen  on  the  stage.  Tamburini  was  lago ;  Ivanoff,  Rodri- 
go.  Mdlle.  Grisi  also  proved  herself  a  worthy  successor  of 
Pasta  in  Aoina  Bolena. 

"  Though,  naturally  enough,  in  some  respects  inexperienced 
on  her  first  appearance  in  England,"  observes  Mr.  Chorley, 
"  Giulia  Grisi  was  not  incomplete.  And  what  a  soprano  voice 
was  hers !  rich,  sweet ;  equal  throughout  its  compass  of  two 
octaves  (from  C  to  C)  without  a  break,  or  a  note  which  had 
to  be  managed.  The  voice  subdued  the  audience  on  her  first 
appearance,  ere  Di  placer  was  done." 

Mdlle.  Grisi  was  an  indefatigable  concert-singer,  and  on  one 
occasion  she  sang  at  five  different  concerts,  gratuitously,  on 
the  same  morning.  At  a  grand  festival  at  York  she  sang  four- 
teen pieces,  of  which  four  had  Latin  words  and  four  English. 
Malibran  having  received  forty  guineas  each  evening  at  this 
festival  the  year  before,  Mdlle.  Grisi  refused  to  accept  a  lesser 
sum,  and  she  obtained  it ;  but,  to  show  that  it  was  merely  a 
point  of  principle,  she  sent  to  the  poor  each  day  the  forty 
guineas  which  she  received.  She  was  made  an  honorary  gov- 
ernor of  Westminster  Hospital  in  acknowledgment  of  the  serv- 
ices which  her  talents  and  charity  had  rendered  to  that  insti- 
tution. 

In  December  Mdlle.  Grisi  ajopeared  as  Norma,  and  thence- 
forth Norma  was  her  greatest  character. 

"  In  this  character,  Grisi,"  observes  a  writer  in  the  Musical 
World,  "is  not  to  be  approached,  for  all  those  attributes  which 
have  given  her  her  best  distinction  are  displayed  therein  in 
their  fullest  splendor.  Her  singing  may  be  rivaled,  but  hard- 
ly her  embodiment  of  ungovernable  and  vindictive  emotion. 
There  are  certainly  parts  in  the  lyric  drama  of  Italy  this  fine 
artiste  has  made  her  own:  this  is  one  of  the  most  striking,  and 
we  have  a  faith  in  its  unreachable  superiority — in  its  complete- 
ness as  a  whole — that  is  not  to  be  disturbed.  Her  delivery  of 
'  Casta  Diva'  is  a  transcendent  efibrt  of  vocalization.  In  the 
scene  where  she  discovers  the  treachery  of  Pollio,  and  dis- 
charges upon  his  guilty  head  a  torrent  of  withering  and  indig- 
nant reproof,  she  exhibits  a  power,  bordering  on  the  sublime, 


GIULIA   GEISI. 


373 


which  belongs  exclusively  to  her,  giving  to  the  character  of 
the  insulted  priestess  a  dramatic  importance  which  would  be 
remarkable  even  if  entirely  separated  from  the  vocal  pre-emi- 
nence with  which  it  is  allied.  But  in  all  its  aspects  the  per- 
formance is  as  near  perfection  as  rare  and  exalted  genius  can 
make  it,  and  the  singing  of  the  actress  and  the  acting  of  the 
singer  are  alike  conspicuous  for  excellence  and  power.  Wheth- 
er in  depicting  the  quiet  repose  of  love,  the  agony  of  abused 
confidence,  the  infuriate  resentment  of  jealousy,  or  the  influ- 
ence of  feminine  piety,  there  is  always  the  best  reason  for  ad- 
miration, accompanied  in  the  more  tragic  moments  with  that 
sentiment  of  awe  which  greatness  of  conception  and  vigor  of 
execution  could  alone  suggest." 

From  1834:  Mdlle.  Grisi  continued  to  sing  alternately  in  Par- 
is and  in  Loudon,  "In  1834,"  to  again  quote  Mr.  Chorley, 
"  she  commanded  an  exactness  of  execution  not  always  kept 
up  by  her  during  the  after  years  of  her  reign.  Her  shake  was 
clear  and  rapid;  her^cales  were  certain j  every  interval  was 
taken  without  hesitation  Tylie'r.  Nor  has  any  woman  ever 
m^ffFThoroughly  cotmnimSe'd"  every  gradation  of  force  than 
she — in  those  early  days  especially ;  not  using  the  contrast  of 
loud  and  soft  too  violently,  but  capable  of  any  required  vio- 
lence, of  any  advisable  delicacy.  In  the  singing  of  certain  slow 
movements  pianissimo,  such  as  the  girl's  prayer  on  the  road 
to  execution  in  La  Gazza,  or  as  the  cantabile  in  the  last  scene 
oi  Amia  Bolena  (which  we  know  as  'Home,  sweet  Home'), 
the  clear,  penetrating  beauty  of  her  reduced  tones  (different  in 
quality  from  the  whispering  semi-vcutriloquism  which  M-as  one 
of  Mademoiselle  Lind's  most  favorite  effects)  was  so  unique  as 
to  reconcile  the  ear  to  a  certain  shallowness  of  expression  in 
her  rendering  of  the  words  and  the  situation. 

"At  that  time  the  beauty  of  sound  was  more  remarkable  (in 
^  such  passages  as  I  have  just  spoken  of)  than  the  depth  of  feel- 
ing. When  the  passion  of  the  actress  was  roused — as  in  La 
Gazza^  during  the  scene  with  her  deserter  father — with  the 
villainous  magistrate,  or  in  the  prison  with  her  lover,  or  on  her 
trial  before  sentence  was  passed — her  glorious  notes,  produced 
without  difficulty  or  stint,  rang  through  the  house  like  a  clari- 
on, and  were  truer  in  their  vehemence  to  the  emotion  of  the 
scene  than  were  those  wonderfully  subdued  sounds,  in  the  pen- 
etrating tenuity  of  which  there  might  be  more  or  less  artifice. 


374 


QUEENS   OF   SONG. 


/ 


From  the  first,  the  vigor  ahvays  went  more  closely  home  to 
the  heart  than  the  tenderness  in  her  singing ;  and  her  acting 
and  her  vocal  delivery — though  the  beauty  of  face  and  voice, 
the  mouth  that  never  distorted  itself,  the  soimds  that  never 
wavered,  might  well  mislead  the  generality  of  her  auditors- 
were  to  be  resisted  by  none." 

In  February,  1836,  during  the  performance  of  Donizetti's 
Marino  Faliero^  at  the  moment  when  Giulia  Grisi  was  enter- 
ing her  box  in  the  course  of  the  third  act,  she  perceived  near 
the  door,  as  if  in  ambuscade,  an  individual  whose  declarations 
of  love  had  already  annoyed  her  for  some  months.  She  utter- 
ed an  exclamation,  and  M.  Robert,  who  accompanied  her,  re- 
quested the  intruder  to  retire.  He  bowed,  murmuring  some 
unintelligible  excuses,  when  Colonel  Ragani,  Grisi's  uncle,  join- 
ed the  party,  and  attempted  to  remonstrate  on  his  unbecoming 
conduct.  The  intruder  drew  a  sword  from  the  cane  which  he 
carried,  and  menaced  all  who  surrounded  him ;  a  scuffle  en- 
sued, and  the  melee  was  ended  by  the  arrival  of  the  commis- 
sary of  police.  The  brawlei-,  whose  name  was  Dupuzet,  was 
condemned  to  one  mouth's  imprisonment  and  a  fine  of  sixteen 
francs.  M.  Dupuzet,  who  was  some  thirty-five  years  of  age, 
was  knoAvn  as  the  author  of  the  Legende  ofJehanne  la  Lucelle 
and  the  Demon  de  Socrate. 

■  On  Sunday,  April  24, 1836,  Giulia  Grisi  was  married  to  M. 
Auguste  Gerard  de  Melcy,  a  French  gentleman  of  independ- 
ent fortune.  On  her  marriage  she  went  with  her  husband  to 
reside  at  the  fine  chateau  de  Vaucresson,  which  she  had  pur- 
chased some  time  previously.  The  admired  prima  donna  did 
not  leave  the  stage,  but  continued  to  perform  during  the  sum- 
mer in  London,  and  during  the  winter  at  Paris. 

In  1837  she  appeared  in  London  in  Semiramide,  v^iih.  Ru- 
bini  and  Tamburiui.  The  most  remarkable  performance  of 
the  season,  however,  was  Don  Giovanni.  The  excitement  to 
hear  her  as  Donna  Anna  was  intense.  Long  ere  the  doors 
were  opened  both  entrances  of  the  theatre  were  surrounded 
by  crowds ;  and,  owing  to  one  of  the  doors  not  being  proper- 
ly opened,  several  persons  were  slightly  hurt.  Many  ladies 
turned  back  frightened  ;  some,  bolder,  reached  the  pit,  or  the 
entrance  to  the  pit,  with  no  greater  misfortune  than  a  very 
considerable  derangement  of  theia*  dress.  After  some  laugh- 
ing aiid  some  disputing,  as  many  as  possible  of  the  unfortu- 


■I 


GIULIA   GRISI.  375 

nates  who  could  not  penetrate  farther  than  the  lobbies  were 
accomiuodated  on  the  stage  :  there  were  more  than  a  hundred 
persons  at  the  wings ;  and  it  was  supposed  that  the  audience 
altogether  consisted  of  more  than  four  thousand  people. 

Madame  Grisi  realized  the  highest  expectations  of  the 
crowded  assembly.  Madame  Albertazzi  Avas  the  Zerlina ; 
Tamburini,  Don  Giovanni ;  Lablache,  Leporello  ;  and  Rubini, 
Ottavio. 

At  the  last  representation  of  Otello  this  season,  Madame 
Pasta,  who  was  then  in  England,  proved  the  sincerity  of  her 
friendship,  for  she  many  times  applauded  her  young  rival, 
who,  after  the  opera,  went  to  the  box  of  the  Queen  of  Lyric 
Tragedy  to  thank  her  for  such  homage. 

Don  Giovanni  was  performed  at  the  Theatre  Italien,  Janu- 
ary 14, 1838,  with  the  strong  cast  of  Mesdames  Grisi,  Persi- 
ani,  and  Albertazzi;  with  Rubini,  Tamburini,  and  Lablache. 
About  an  hour  after  the  doors  were  closed,  the  Opera  House 
was  discovered  to  be  on  fire,  and  was  very  shortly  reduced  to 
a  heap  of  ruins — an  accident  supposed  to  have  arisen  from 
some  of  the  fireworks  used  in  the  infernal  gulf  into  which  the 
commandant  hurls  the  profligate.  Severini  leaped  from  a 
window  near  the  top  of  the  building,  and  was  instantly  killed. 
Robert  only  saved  himself  by  means  of  a  ladder-rope ;  and 
Rossini,  who  had  an  apartment  in  the  theatre,  escaped  by  sim- 
ply being  absent ;  but  the  whole  of  his  musical  libi-ary,  said  to 
be  valued  at  upward  of  200,000  francs,  was  destroyed,  with 
many  rare  manuscripts.  ♦ 

Li  1838,  M.  Duponchel,  the  director  of  the  Opera,  was  look- 
ing for  another  tenor  to  replace  Duprez,  as  he  had  replaced 
Adolphe  Nourrit  by  that  admirable  singer,  and  at  last  his  ea- 
ger eyes  lighted  upon  a  handsome  young  refugee  ofticer  of 
two-and-twenty,  named  Candia.  M.  Candia,  avIio  was  the  son 
of  a  Piedmontese  general,  and  had  been,  besides,  an  oflicer  in 
the  Piedmontese  guard,  had  for  some  time  been  the  cynosure 
of  attention  in  certain  Parisian  circles.  As  he  moved  in  aris- 
tocratic society,  his  expenses  Avere  necessarily  heavy,  and  he 
dared  not  ask  his  father  for  pecuniary  assistance,  the  old  gen- 
tleman being  a  severe  disciplinarian,  and  very  angry  with  his 
son. 

M.  Candia  had  been  often  told  that  he  had  a  hundred  thou- 
sand francs  of  income  in  his  throat,  and  Duponchel  volunteered 


376  QUEENS   OF   SONG. 

to  give  him  fifteen  hundred  francs  a  month  to  begin  with,  if 
he  would  appear  at  the  Opera.  He  hesitated,  on  account  of 
his  aristocratic  birth  aud  his  patrician  father,  and  could  not 
make  up  his  mind  to  sign  the  name  of  Candia  to  a  theatrical 
contract ;  but  dining  one  day  at  the  house  of  the  Countess  de 
MerHn  with  the  Prince  Belgioso,  M.  Dui3onchel,  and  many  oth- 
ers, M.  Candia  was  induced  to  accept  the  proposal  of  M,  Du- 
ponchel,  aud  he  compromised  with  his  family  pride  by  signing 
his  Christian  name  only — that  of  Mario. 

On  the  2d  of  December,  1838,  after  a  severe  course  of  study 
under  the  direction  of  Michelet,  Ponchard,  and  Bordogni,  Sig- 
nor  Mario  appeared  in  the  part  of  Robert  le  Diable.  In  spite 
of  his  agitation,  he  was  triumphantly  successful.  "  What  a 
delicious  voice !"  was  the  cry.  "  Why,  he  will  replace  Ru- 
bini !"    Higher  praise  could  not  have  been  bestowed. 

The  season  of  1839  in  London  was  chiefly  remarkable  for 
the  production  of  Lucrezia  JBorgia,  in  which  Madame  Grisi 
presented  a  splendid  contrast  to  her  equally  truthful  concep- 
tions of  such  parts  as  Elvira  and  Norma :  it  served  also  to  in- 
troduce to  the  English  public  Signer  Mario,  who  appeared  as 
Gennaro.  Such  characters  as  Lucrezia  Borgia  seemed  created 
for  Grisi.  The  more  elevated  the  character,  the  more  suited 
to  her.  The  most  fleeting  touches,  the  most  massive  shadows, 
were  boldly  portrayed  with  a  powerful  yet  light  hand.  Love 
in  all  its  phases  she  delineated  as  no  other  artiste  had  the  skUl 
to  do.  Dramatic,  impassioned  as  Desdemona,  she  pictured 
love  iu  all  its  ardor,  its  unsullied  purity,  its  despair ;  as  Anna 
Bolena,  she  softly  shadowed  forth  "  love  in  its  melancholy  and 
its  regrets ;"  and  as  Norma,  she  painted  love  in  tints  of  fire : 
love  in  its  jealousy,  its  guilt,  its  scathing  fury ;  as  Lucrezia, 
she  displayed  love  in  all  its  maternal  intensity,  its  vengeful 
cruelty. 

In  1840  Madame  Grisi  won  fresh  laurels  from  her  English 
admirers  in  lioherto  Devereicx^  and  also  in  II  Barhiere  di  Se- 
viglia,  with  Mario.  "The  Five" — Mesdames  Grisi  and  Persi- 
ani,  Signori  liubini,  Tamburini,  and  Lablache  —  came  to  En- 
gland as  usual  in  1841 ;  but  in  1842  Madame  Grisi  did  not  ap- 
pear at  her  Majesty's  Theatre. 

In  January,  1843,  Doti  Pasquale,  one  of  the  sprightliest  and 
pleasantest  operas  ever  written,  was  placed  in  rehearsal  by 
Donizetti  at  the  Theatre  Italien.     Its  reception  at  rehearsal 


GIULIA   GEISI.  377 

was  ominous :  despite  the  beauty  of  the  music,  which  was  in 
his  happiest  vein,  the  orchestra  kept  a  dead  silence.  Not  a 
sound  of  satisfaction,  not  a  token  of  approbation,  was  aftbrded 
by  the  musical  jury.  The  two  directors  stood  by  trembling 
for  its  success ;  but  Donizetti  listened  and  shrugged  his  shoul- 
ders, and  taking  the  arm  of  his  friend  M.  Dormoy,  the  publish- 
er, quietly  left  the  theatre.  "  Let  them  alone,"  he  coolly  said; 
"  they  know  nothing  about  it.  I  know  what  Bon  Pasquale 
wants.  Come  with  me."  On  reaching  home,  Donizetti  hur- 
ried up  stairs  to  his  bedroom,  and  in  a  drawer  beneath  an  old 
battered  piano-forte  he  pulled  out  from  amid  a  quantity  of  mu- 
sic what  appeared  to  be  a  song. 

"Take  this,"  said  he  to  M.  Dormoy;  "this  is  what  Don 
Pasquale  requires.  Carry  it  at  once  to  Mario,  that  he  may 
learn  it  without  delay,  and  tell  him  that  he  must  rehearse  it 
this  evening."  This  song  was  "  Com'  e  gentil."  The  serenade 
was  sung  with  the  accompaniment  of  a  tambourine,  the  accom- 
panyist  being  Lablache  himself,  who  was  concealed  from  the 
eyes  of  the  audience. 

It  is  needless  to  say  that  Don  Pasquale  was  a  success.  The 
same  year  it  was  produced  in  London.  This  season  also  Ma- 
dame Grisi  appeared  as  Ninetta  before  the  audience  of  her 
Majesty's  Theatre. 

In  1847  the  memorable  operatic  schism  took  place,  which 
led  to  the  formation  of  "  the  Royal  Italian  Opera"  at  Covent 
Garden  Theatre.  The  principal  members  of  the  company  of 
Her  Majesty's  Theatre  who  seceded  from  that  house  and  join- 
ed the  new  establishment  were  Madame  Grisi,  Madame  Pcrsi- 
ani,  Signer  Mario,  and  Signer  Tamburiui ;  and  the  company 
was  strengthened  by  the  addition  of  several  eminent  perform- 
ers previously  unknown  to  England,  of  whom  Mdlle.  Alboni 
was  the  chief.  The  lessee  of  her  ^Majesty's  Theatre  endeav- 
ored to  make  head  against  this  defection  by  engaging  the  serv- 
ices of  Jenny  Liud,  who  became  the  great  support  of  the  old 
house,  as  Grisi  was  of  the  new.  The  Royal  Italian  Opera 
opened,  in  the  beginning  of  the  season  of  1847,  with  Semira- 
mide,  Grisi  appearing  as  the  Assyrian  Queen,  and  Alboni  as 
Arsace.  The  vast  theatre  was  crowded  to  the  doors  ;  the 
representation  -Rias  splendid,  and  the  excitement  of  the  public 
was  extreme.  In  all  the  subsequent  vicissitudes  of  the  Royal 
Italian  Opera,  Grisi  steadily  adhered  to  it,  and  it  was  on  its 
boards  that  she  took  her  final  leave  of  the  English  public. 


(.. 


378  QUEENS   OF   SONG. 

Madame  Grisi,  probably  alarmed  by  the  Revolution  of  Feb- 
ruary, abandoned  the  Opera  of  Paris  in  1848.  During  the  sea- 
son of  that  year  in  London  she  added  the  part  of  Leonora  in 
La  Favorita  to  her  repertoire. 

In  1851  Madame  Grisi  repaired  to  St.  Petersburg  with  Sig- 
ner Mario.  Her  benefit,  in  February,  1852,  was  a  perfect  ova- 
tion :  the  opera  was  Lucrezia  Borgia^  during  which  she  was 
recalled  twenty  times ;  and  after  the  performance  the  Czar  pre- 
sented her  with  a  Cashmere  shawl  worth  4000  rubles  (about 
£800),  a  tiara  of  pearls  and  diamonds,  and  a  ring  of  great 
value. 

"~  In  1854,  after  more  than  twenty  years  of  uninterrupted  tri- 
umph, Madame  Grisi,  with  Signor  Mario,  gave  what  were  an- 
nounced as  "farewell  performances."  The  operas  in  which  she 
appeared  included  Norvna^  Lucrezia  Borgia^  Don  Pasquale, 
Gli  JJgonotti^  La  Favorita.  The  first,  given  June  1,  was  N'or- 
ma,  Madame  Grisi  performing  Norma  ;  Mdlle.  Maria,  Adalgi- 
sa;  Tamberlik,  Pollio;  and  Lablache,  Oroveso;  the  last  per- 
formance, given  August  7,  consisted  of  the  first  act  of  Norma, 
and  the  three  first  acts  of  GU  Ugonotti,  in  which  Mario  sus- 
tained the  principal  tenor  part. 

"  Rarely,  in  her  best  days,"  said  one  critic, "  had  Grisi  been 
heard  with  greater  efiect,  and  never  were  her  talents  as  an 
actress  more  conspicuously  displayed."  At  the  conclusion 
of  the  performance  the  departing  singer  received  an  ovation. 
Bouquets  were  flung  in  profusion,  vociferous  applause  rang 
through  the  theatre,  and  when  she  reappeared  the  whole  house 
rose  :  the  emotion  which  was  evinced  by  her  admirers  was  ev- 
idently shared  by  herself. 

Madaiiie  Grisi  then  left  Liverpool  with  Signor  Mario  for 
New  York.  The  terms  of  the  engagement  were  £17,000  for 
six  months.  The  two  artistes  made  their  debut  at  Castle  Gar- 
den, August  18,  in  Liicrezia  Borgia.  Their  arrival  created 
the  greatest  excitement ;  nothing  else  was  talked  of  for  the 
moment.  They  performed  seventy  times  altogether  in  Amer- 
ica. The  manager,  Mr,  Hackett,  declared  at  a  farewell  dinner 
given  to  the  two  celebrated  singers,  that  he  had  gained  nearly 
£12,000  by  their  engagement. 

On  returning  from  New  York,  Madame  Grisi  was  prevailed 
on  to  postpone  her  resolve  of  retiring,  and  to  reappear  in  Lon- 
don, May,  1855,  as  Leonora  in  La  Favorita.    Bon  Pasquale 


i 


GIULIA   GRISI. 


379 


was  giveu  in  June,  having  the  attraction  of  being  performed 
by  the  four  singers  for  whom  it  was  originally  written.  Grisi 
next  appeared  at  the  Theatre  Italien  in  1856  and  1857.  She 
was  coldly  received  by  the  Parisians  in  Semiramide  and  Z/u- 
crezia  Borgia^  but  conquered  the  sympathies  of  the  public  in 
Norma^  in  which  she  supplied  by  dramatic  energy  the  obvious 
[failure  of  her  voice. 

During  1856  she  was  singing  at  Drury  Lane  Theatre  with 
Madame  Gassier,  Madame  Itudersdorff,  and  Herr  Formes ;  hi 
I&5T  she  was  performing  with  a  fine  company  in  Dublin ;  in 
March,  1858,  she  was  again  in  Paris,  having  been  engaged  by 
Calzado,  director  of  the  Theatre  Italien ;  from  Paris  she  re- 
turned to  London. 

Madame  Grisi  performed  at  Madrid  in  1859.  The  Theatre 
Royal  opened  Thursday,  October  6,  with  great  eclat,  under 
the  direction  of  Signor  Mario.  The  house  was  crowded,  and 
among  the  audience  Avere  many  of  the  most  distinguished  per- 
sons of  the  court  of  S2)ain.  Grisi  appeared  as  Norma,  and 
Mario  as  Pollio.  During  the  first  act,  some  of  the  audience, 
influenced  by  an  unaccountable  impulscjlnsulted  Madame  Gri- 
si in  a  most  disgraceful  manner.  She  was  obliged  to  make  a 
written  appeal  to  the  Spanish  public,  which  had  the  eflcct  of 
propitiating  the  audience  on  her  second  apjiearance ;  but  on 
this  occasion  Mario  was  ill,  and  the  performance  came  to  an 
abrupt  termination. 

The  season  of  1861  witnessed  the  final  retirement  of  the 
great  prima  donna,  who  gave  some  farewell  performances  at 
the  Royal  Italian  Opera  in  Norma  and  some  other  favorite 
operas. 

"A  quarter  of  a  century,"  says  Mr.  Chorley,  "is  a  fair  length 
of  reign  for  any  queen — a  brilliant  one  for  an  Opera  queen  of 
these  modern  times,  when  '  wear  and  tear'  are  so  infinitely 
greater  than  they  used  to  be.  The  supremacy  of  Madame 
Grisi  has  been  prolonged  by  a  combination  of  qualities  rare  at 
any  period.  In  our  day  there  has  been  no  woman  so  beauti- 
ful, so  liberally  endowed  Avith  voice  and  with  dramatic  impulse 
as  herself,  Catalani  excepted.  In  many  respects  Madame  Grisi 
has  been  more  satisfactory  than  her  gorgeous  predecessor — 

more  valuable  to  her  public,  because  less  exacting As 

an  artiste,  calculated  to  engage  and  retain  the  average  public 
without  trick  or  affectation,  and  to  satisfy,  by  her  balance  of 


/ 


380  QUEENS    OF   SONG. 

charming  attributes  —  by  the  assurance,  moreover,  that  she 
was  giving  the  best  she  knew  how  to  give — she  satisfied  even 
those  who  had  received  much  greater  j)leasure,  and  had  been 
impressed  with  much  deeper  emotion  in  the  performances  of 
others.  I  have  never  tired  of  Madame  Grisi  during  five-and- 
twenty  years ;  but  I  have  never  been,  in  her  case,  under  one 
of  those  spells  of  intense  enjoyment  and  sensation  which  make 
an  epoch  in  life,  and  which  leave  a  print  on  memory  never  to 
be  canceled  by  any  later  attraction — never  to  be  forgotten  so 
long  as  life  and  power  to  receive  shall  endure." 


I 


MADAME  OLAKA  NOTELLO. 


CLAEA   ANASTASIA  NOVELLO.  383 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

CLAEA   ANASTASIA   NOVELLO. 

With  the  name  of  Novello  there  are  many  art-associations. 
Vincent  Novello  was  a  distinguished  composer  of  vocal  music, 
chiefly  for  the  service  of  the  Papal  Church.  He  was  even 
more  eminent  as  an  editor,  his  arrangement  of  the  masses  of 
Haydn  and  Mozart  being  in  use  in  every  Roman  Catholic  chap- 
el throughout  the  kingdom,  while  his  name  is  distinguished  by 
his  noble  edition  of  the  sacred  works  of  Purcell.  He  was  one 
of' the  original  members  of  the  Philharmonic  Societv,  and  in 
the  old  days,  before  the  "  conductor"  of  musical  performances 
became  a  sepai-ate  branch  of  the  profession,  Vincent  Novello 
used,  alternately  with  his  brother  members,  to  preside  at  the 
piano-forte  at  the  society's  concerts :  he  subsequently  became 
the  responsible  director. 

All  his  family  have  shown  themselves  to  pos?!ess  talent  and 
energy,  and  some  have  become  distinguished  for  their  abilities. 
His  son  Alfred,  himself  a  musician,  has  earned  the  gratitude  of 
the  lovers  of  music  by  the  publication  of  classical  music  ar- 
ranged by  his  father  in  a  cheap  form ;  another  son,  Edward, 
who  died  young,  evinced  no  ordinary  talent  as  an  artist,  in 
which  pursuit  Miss  Emma  Novello  also  made  some  proficien- 
cy. Miss  Sabilla  Novello  made  a  favorable  impression  as  a 
vocalist,  resigning  the  arduous  career  to  devote  herself  to  the 
production  of  theoretical  works  on  the  art.  Mrs.  Cowden 
Clarke,  devoted  to  literature,  is  a  writer  of  tales  and  essays, 
and  has  gained  world-wide  celebrity  as  the  compiler  of  a  Con- 
cordance to  Shakspeare;  and  another  sister,  who  was  a  singer 
at  the  English  Opera  House  when  it  was  under  the  direction 
of  Mr.  Arnold,  retired  from  the  stage  on  her  marriage  with 
Mr.  Serle,  a  dramatic  author  and  actor,  and  a  political  writer. 

The  brightest  star  in  the  cluster  is  Clara  Novello,  born  June 
10,  1818,  in  Oxford  Street,  London.  Her  gifts,  which  were 
developed  early,  came  to  her  by  inheritance.  When  almost  an 
infant  she  commenced  her  preparatory  studies  under  the  care 


384  QUEENS   OF   SONG. 

of  Miss  Hill,  of  York,  and  then  under  the  direction  of  Mr.  John 
Robinson,  also  of  that  city.     In  1824  she  returned  to  London. 

Her  "  clear  childish  treble"  was  admired  by  all  her  friends ; 
she  could  sing,  among  other  difficult  songs,  "The  Soldier  tired," 
that  trying  air  in  the  Beggar's  Opera^  "  Cease  your  funning," 
and  many  pieces  of  a  similar  kind  requiring  brilliant  execution. 
"  Her  father's  house,"  says  one  of  her  biographers,  "  was  a 
gathering-place  of  many  of  the  mo§t  eminent  literary  men  of 
that  notable  period.  Leigh  Hunt,  Hazlitt,  Keats,  Shelley,  were 
more  or  less  frequent  guests  of  her  paternal  home,  and  others, 
not  less  renowned  for  wit  and  wisdom,  were  members  of  the 
brilliant  circle ;  Charles  Lamb,  for  one,  as  unmusical  as  he  was 
humorous,  enjoyed  the  meetings,  though  he  had  no  sense  for 
the  occasional  music,  which  was  the  chief  attraction ;  and  in 
his  wonderful  Chapter  on  Ears  he  describes  these  very  re- 
unions." 

The  year  of  her  return  home  the  little  Clara  went  with  her 
parents  to  France.  There  was  a  vacancy  for  a  candidate  in 
the  Conservatoire  de  Musa  Sacra,  at  Paris,  and  Fetis,  who  was 
charmed  with  the  little  English  warbler,  advised  her  father  to 
apply.  The  instruction  being  gratuitous,  there  was,  of  course, 
great  competition  ;  Mr.  Novello,  however,  went  to  M.  Choron, 
who  was  at  the  head  of  the  establishment,  and  laid  before  him 
the  claims  of  his  daughter  Clara.  It  was  necessary  that  the 
youthful  candidate  should  undergo  a  trial  and  examination 
previoiisly  to  admission,  and  the  child,  young  as  she  was  — 
only  six  years  —  sang  courageously  before  M.  Choron.  The 
worthy  musician  was  not  a  man  to  frighten  any  body,  it  is 
true :  he  was  a  little  round  jDcrsonage,  with  fine  delicate  fea- 
tures, an  animated,  benevolent  physiognomy,  and  a  man  of  in- 
finite wit  and  of  varied  acquirements.  M.  Choron  did  not  un- 
derstand or  appreciate  "The  Soldier  tired,"  and  he  required 
another  specimen  of  her  ability  in  a  style  with  which  he  was 
more  familiar.  The  child,  nothing  daunted,  sang  the  "  Agnus 
Dei"  from  Mozart's  Mass  in  F,  in  the  execution  of  which  she 
displayed  such  genuine  musical  feeling,  and  so  much  j^romise, 
that  she  was  unhesitatingly  preferred  over  nineteen  compet- 
itors. 

The  little  girl's  studies  in  the  seminary  were  principally  di- 
rected to  sacred  music,  in  which  she  made  such  rapid  prog- 
ress that  she  was  soon  capable  of  sustaining  a  part  in  the  per- 


CLARA   AN  ASTASIA   NOVELLO.  385 

formances  of  the  jsupils.  At  one  of  the  public  exhibitions, 
Clara  had  the  honor  of  singing  before  the  king,  Charles  X., 
and  tlie  royal  family.  Prince  Poliguac,  who  was  present,  paid 
her  some  kind  and  encouraging  compliments.  She  was  so 
young  at  the  time  that  she  had  to  be  jDlaced  on  a  stool  that  she 
might  be  seen  by  the  audience.  It  was  in  this  academy  that 
Clara  acquired  her  solid  and  firm  sostcnuto,  from  singing,  with- 
out instrumental  accompaniment,  the  choral  pieces  of  Palestri- 
na,  Leo,  Handel,  and  other  composers. 

For  six  years  she  continued  the  course  of  instruction  afford- 
ed by  the  Conservatoire.  In  the  Revolution  of  July,  howev- 
er, the  institution,  being  dependent  on  the  government,  was 
broken  up,  and  Clara  was  of  course  immediately  removed.  As 
she  was  hurried  through  the  turbulent  streets,  "meeting  in  her 
progress  the  wounded  and  dying,  the  horrors  of  the  scene  pro- 
duced so  strong  an  effect  upon  her  nervous  system,  that  upon 
her  arrival  at  her  friend's  house  she  sank  into  a  sleeping  stu- 
por, in  which  she  remained  thirty-six  hours,  and  thus,  in  aU 
probability,  was  saved  from  an  attack  of  brain  fever." 

In  1833,  when  she  was  only  fourteen  years  old,  an  age  when 
most  singers  arc  only  commencing  their  studies,  Clara  Novello 
made  her  debut  before  an  English  audience  at  a  benefit  con- 
cert given  by  Mrs.  Sewell,  at  Windsor,  when  she  took  part  in 
the  duet  "Forsake  me  not,"  from  Spohr's  Last  Judgment,  and 
sang  a  little  ballad,  "  Chagrin  d' Amour."  She  sang  at  the 
Ancient  Concerts,  and  at  the  Philharmonic  Concerts,  being 
the  youngest  vocalist  that  ever  appeared  at  the  performances 
of  this  society ;  also  at  many  provincial  musical  festivals.  And 
at  the  great  musical  festival  held  at  Westminster  Abbey  in 
1834  —  from  which  may  be  dated  the  progress,  if  not  the  ori- 
gin, of  the  Sacred  Harmonic  Society — Clara  Novello  was  one 
of  the  principal  singers. 

In  August,  1836,  Mr.  John  Barnett's  opera,  the  Mountain 
Sylph,  being  revived  at  the  English  Opera  House,  Clara  No- 
vello  appeared  as  Jessie,  Miss  Shirreff  taking  the  part  of  the 
Sylph.  Clara  acquitted  herself  extremely  well,  especially  in 
the  concerted  music.  At  the  great  musical  festival  in  Man- 
chester in  the  next  month,  to  which  a  melancholy  interest  is 
attached  in  consequence  of  the  death  of  Madame  Malibran, 
Clara  Novello  was  one  of  the  vocalists.  She  was  even  then 
thought  highly  of,  though  singing  by  the  side  of  that  gifted 
25  11 


386 


QUEENS   OF   SONG. 


performer.  Her  lovely  voice,  her  refinement  of  style,  were  be- 
ginning to  make  a  profound  impression.  The  other  singers 
were  Madame  Caradori  Allan,  Mrs,  Shaw,  Mrs.  Bishop,  Signori 
IvanofF  and  Lablache,  Braham,  Phillips,  etc, 

"  Tuesday  evening  preceding  the  Festival,"  says  Mrs.  No- 
vello,  "  Malibrau  not  only  gave  Clara  Novello  some  excellent 
advice  upon  her  appearance  in  public  (doubly  valuable  from 
her  acknowledged  superior  style  of  effective  costume,  both  on 
the  stage  and  in  private),  but  actually  took  down  and  redressed 
my  daughter's  hair,  and,  with  her  accustomed  freedom  from  en- 
vy, kept  admiring  the  long  silky  tresses  as  they  passed  through 
her  fingers,  finishing  the  friendly  operation  by  inserting  a 
double-headed  silver  pin  in  the  plait,  of  which  she  begged  her 
acceptance,  kindly  adding,  '  You  will  not  like  it  the  less  be- 
cause I  have  worn  it  in  Amina,'  The  delight  experienced  by 
the  young  aspirant  may  be  imagined,  who  doted  upon  her  as 
a  woman  and  an  artist,  '  It  is  a  talisman,'  she  exclaimed,  'and 
I  shall  sing  better  from  this  night.'  " 

Clara  had  many  pieces  to  sing,  all  of  which  she  executed  ad- 
mirably, both  airs  and  concerted  music.  In  the  beautiful  duet 
by  Marcello,  "  Qual  anelante"  (on  Wednesday  morning),  she 
sang  with  the  dying  Malibran.  The  unrivaled  prima  donna 
"had  set  her  mind  upon  its  producing  a  great  effect,"  says  Mrs. 
Novello,  "  and  when  she  arranged  with  Clara  the  cadence  they 
were  to  introduce,  she  refused  to  write  it  down,  saying  in  her 
kind  tone  of  encouragement,  'You  will  follow  me;  I  am  quite 
sure  of  you,  and  of  its  being  encored,'  The  eflect  was,  indeed, 
as  if  both  singers  had  been  inspired.  When  requested  to  re- 
peat it,  Malibran  exclaimed, '  I  will  sing  it  fifty  times ;  and  as 
to  Clara,  she  is  a  good-natured  little  thing,  and  will  do  any 
thing  you  require  of  her,'  Just  before  they  began  it  a  second 
time,  her  eye  caught  mine,  and  she  whispered, '  Clara,  how 
pleased  mamma  looks !'  " 

Malibrau  was  inspired  by  a  strong  afiection  for  her  young 
friend.  Mrs,  Novello  nursed  her  in  her  dying  moments,  and 
in  the  course  of  many  confidences,  poor  Maria  spoke  of  her 
husband,  De  Beriot,  and  of  her  old  comrade,  Lablache,  with 
the  warmest  admiration  and  affection ;  and  of  Clara  in  the 
same  manner.  "I  love  very  few  persons,"  she  energetically 
exclaimed ;  "but  those  I  do  love,  I  ^oye,"  and  her  eyes  beamed 
with  intense  devotion  and  fervency.     "  You  need  not  be  anx- 


CLAEA   ANASTASIA  NOVELLO.  387 

ious  for  your  daughter.  She  is  in  the  right  way.  She  can  not 
fail  of  obtaining  the  highest  rank  in  the  profession,  with  her 
voice  and  the  education  she  has  received." 

Clara  was  strenuously  advised  by  Malibran,  it  is  said,  to  go 
at  once  to  Italy  and  study  for  the  stage.  Certain  existing  en- 
gagements, at  the  Worcester  Festival  and  elsewhere,  however, 
detained  her  at  home  for  some  months.  Her  style  was  already 
formed  to  a  great  extent,  and  she  wisely  refrained  from  forcing 
her  voice.  As  a  favorite  with  the  public  her  position  was  es- 
tablished, and  for  it  she  was  indebted  to  nothing  but  her  own 
merit.  ISTever  did  vocalist  owe  less  to  favoritism  or  personal 
efforts  to  win  applause. 

"  Her  style  is  purely  correct  and  rational,"  says  a  critic  of 
the  period.  "  She  takes  no  unwarrantable  liberty  with  her  au- 
thor, and  what  graces  she  introduces  are  never  redundant  or 
at  variance  with  the  character  of  her  music.  Her  sostenuto  is 
remarkable  for  firmness,  equality,  and  steadiness.  This  valua- 
ble qualification  in  her  singing  is  attributable  to  her  early  prac- 
tice of  the  long  suspensions  that  constantly  occur  in  the  choral 
music  of  Palestrina,  and  which  formed  part  of  her  almost  daily 
lessons  while  in  Paris.  The  chief  characteristic  of  her  singing 
is  sweetness  and  equability,  without  eflbrt ;  indeed,  whether 
executing  a  Tyrolean  ballad,  or  that  exceedingly  arduous  scene, 
Tu  ni' abbandoni  of  Spohr,  her  manner  is  equally  composed." 

Her  voice  was  a  high  soprano,  two  octaves  in  compass,  from 
D  to  D,  pure,  open,  brilliant,  clear,  and  liquid  as  a  well-tuned 
silver  bell,  and  extremely  sympathetic,  combining  the  fullness 
and  richness  of  the  contralto  with  the  compass  of  the  mezzo- 
soprano.  In  the  upper  register  some  of  the  tones  were  won- 
derfully touching.  Not  a  trace  of  affectation  or  display  was 
ever  perceptible  in  her  singing. 

About  this  time  the  rising  young  vocalist  received  a  press- 
ing request  from  Mendelssohn  to  sing  at  Leipzig.  The  maes- 
tro, in  his  first  visits  to  England,  had  constantly  joined  the 
social  gatherings  at  the  house  of  Mr.  Vincent  Novello,  and  had 
then  learned  to  appreciate  the  young  Clara.  "  It  is  said  that 
in  summer  weather,  parties  were  frequently  formed,  of  which 
he  was  one  and  Malibran  another,  for  excursions  in  the  fields 
round  London.  On  these  occasions,  as  on  all  others,  music 
was  essential  to  the  day's  enjoyment ;  accordingly,  the  master- 
pieces of  the  great  Italian  and  English  composers  would  form 


388  QUEENS   OF   SONG. 

the  necessary  baggage  of  the  caravan  of  pleasure  ;  and  with 
these  sj^read  out  before  them,  seated  on  the  grass  beneath  the 
shade  of  the  hedgerows,  and  beyond  the  chance  of  interrup- 
tion, the  cheerful  group  would  sing  the  madrigals  or  the  mo- 
tets, the  part  songs  or  anthems,  which  delighted  their  forefa- 
thers." Mendelssohn,  having  thus  had  every  opportunity  of 
discovering  the  rich  musical  gifts  of  Miss  Novello,  and  fully  es- 
timating them,  now  invited  her  to  sing  at  the  famous  Gewand- 
haus  Concerts,  which  were  under  his  direction. 

In  October,  1837,  Clara  Novello  left  London  for  Rotterdam 
on  her  way  to  Leipzig,  accompanied  by  her  father,  mother,  and 
sister,  and  made  her  first  appearance  at  the  Leipzig  Concerts 
on  the  2d  of  November.  Her  reception  was  most  flattering. 
Her  beautiful  voice,  good  style,  pure  intonation,  perfect  ex- 
pression, and  admirable  aplomb,  especially  at  the  termination 
of  the  phrases,  won  instant  applause  for  her.  The  German 
critics  were  in  ecstasies.  Clara  Xovello's  efibrts  at  these  con- 
certs were  pronounced  by  Mendelssohn  to  be  a  real  service  to 
the  lovers  of  music,  and  the  maestro  described  her  in  a  letter 
to  Mr.  Alfred  Novello,  her  brother,  as  a  confirmed  favorite  of 
the  Leipzig  public.  Replying  to  a  request  of  our  Philharmon- 
ic directors  that  he  would  recommend  them  some  singer  for 
their  series  of  concerts,  Mendelssohn  wrote,  "  The  greatest 
singers  in  Germany  are  Miss  Clara  Novello  and  Mrs.  Alfred 
Shaw."  The  benefit  concert  of  the  young  English  artiste  in 
February,  1838,  was  one  of  the  most  successful  ever  known  in 
Leipzig. 

From  Leipzig  Clara  went  to  Berlin,  when  the  Philharmonic 
Society  of  that  city  elected  her  an  honorary  member.  From 
Berlin  she  proceeded  with  her  family  to  Italy ;  but  again  her 
intention  of  preparing  for  the  stage  was  diverted,  she  having 
so  many  engagements  to  sing  at  the  various  musical  festivals 
then  being  celebrated  in  Milan  in  honor  of  the  Emjoeror  of 
Austria's  coronation  as  King  of  Lombardy.  The  spring  of 
1838  was  spent  by  Miss  Novello  in  Vienna;  and  a  series  of 
engagements  in  the  principal  cities  of  Germany  occupied  her 
time  and  attention  during  the  season  of  1838-39,  She  was  at 
Berlin  in  January,  1839,  and  the  King  of  Prussia,  Frederick, 
was  so  delighted  with  her  rendering  of  "  I  know  that  my  Re- 
deemer liveth,"  that  he  took  a  paternal  interest  in  her,  and 
wrote  an  autograph  letter  to  his  sister,  the  Empress  of  Russia, 


CLARA  ANASTASIA   NOVELLO.  389 

for  the  young  vocalist,  who  was  going  to  St.  Petersburg.     In- 
deed, she  was  the  enfante  cherie  of  the  Berlinese. 

In  no  place  is  music  more  warmly  ajopreciated,  or  its  expo- 
nents more  liberally  rewarded,  than  in  Kussia,  as  Miss  Clara 
Novello  could  have  attested.  After  remaining  a  short  time 
there  she  returned  to  Berlin,  giving  her  first  concert  in  the 
hall  of  the  King's  Theatre.  Every  place  was  taken,  and  the 
applause  was  loud  and  vehement.  Her  pure  style  and  beauti- 
ful intonation  were  deservedly  admired  throughout  the  Conti- 
nent. She  also  appeared  at  the  Dusseldorf  Festival  with  Mdlle. 
von  Fassmann,  who  was  a  celebrity  in  Germany,  and  whose 
voice  —  at  least  when  she  had  one,  some  years  before  1839 
—  had  been  a  powerful  soprano,  "the  natural  toughness  of 
which,"  says  Mr.  Chorley,  "had  never  been  wrought  out  of 
it  by  practice.  In  all  passages  of  the  least  volubility  she  was 
totally  inaudible,  or  so  languidly  heavy  as  to  destroy  every 
idea  of  tone." 

From  1839  no  obstacles  opposed  the  projected  dramatic 
studies  of  Clara  Xovello ;  and  remembering  the  kindness  of 
Rossini  when  they  had  met  on  the  occasion  of  the  Coronation 
fetes  at  Milan,  she  ^letermined  to  visit  him  at  Bologna  with 
her  father  and  brother.  The  great  master,  charmed  with  her 
talent,  and  enraptured  with  her  voice,  gave  her  friendly  coim- 
sels.  His  advice  was  that  she  should  relinquish  public  life  for 
a  year,  and  study  for  the  stage,  frequent  the  theatre  regularly, 
and  give  her  undivided  attention  to  operatic  music.  She  ac- 
cordingly went  to  Milan,  where  she  became  the  pupil  of  Mich- 
eroux,  the  master  of  the  greatest  Italian  theatrical  singers  of 
the  day,  and  under  his  direction  she  studied  diligently  for  a 
whole  year. 

Having  accepted  an  engagement  to  perform  at  several  thea- 
tres in  Italy  for  three  years,  Miss  Novello  made  her  debut  in 
opera  at  Padua,  July  C,  1841,  choosing  the  ambitious  part  of 
Semiramide  for  her  first  essay.  She  was  then  oue-and-twenty. 
Her  success  was  complete ;  and  as  she  increased  in  experience, 
she  attained  more  command  of  the  special  requirements  of  the 
stage,  and  gained  every  day  greater  success.  She  subsequent- 
ly appeared  at  Rome,  Fermo,  Milan,  and  other  places,  where 
her  performances  Avere  a  succession  of  triumphs.  The  critics 
were  at  a  loss  for  language  wherein  to  express  their  admira- 
tion and  delight :  the  rich  Italian  tongue  was  ransacked  by 


390 


QUEENS   OF   SONG. 


poets,  even,  for  epithets  to  embody  theii*  ideas  of  the  exquisite 
talent  of  the  fair  Inglesina.  From  November,  1841,  to  the  fol- 
lowing March,  Clara  Novello  was  singing  at  Bologna,  under 
the  immediate  auspices  of  Rossini.  The  Bolognese  were  en- 
chanted with  "  la  bella  Inglese." 

In  the  summer  Clara  Novello  was  singing  at  Modena.  At 
her  departure  on  the  28th  of  July,  after  a  triumphant  season, 
the  crowd  surrounded  her  carnage,  and  accompanied  her  home 
Avith  shouts  and  choruses,  filling  the  coach  with  bouquets  and 
wreaths  of  the  choicest  flowers.  She  then  returned  to  Bolog- 
na for  the  autumn.     Her  next  engagement  was  at  Rome. 

In  Italy  all  theatrical  engagements  are  effected  by  means  of 
correspondents  —  agents  who  devote  their  talents  to  negotia- 
ting arrangements  between  managers  and  the  comi:)osers  and 
singers,  and  it  was  through  one  of  these  agents  that  Miss  No- 
vello entered  into  an  eno-as-ement  for  the  Carnival  season  of 
1842  at  Rome.  But  when  she  prepared  to  start  for  the  impe- 
I'ial  city,  she  found,  to  her  surprise,  that  she  was  eagerly  and 
confidently  exj)ected  by  the  director  of  the  theatre  of  Genoa. 
This  was  an  unexpected  and  awkward  dilemma ;  each  impre- 
sario demanded  the  fulfillment  of  the  agreement,  and  it  was 
impossible  to  comply  with  the  requisitions  of  both. 

It  so  happened  that  when  Miss  Novello  made  the  unpleasant 
discovery  of  her  awkward  situation,  she  was  singing  at  Fermo, 
which  is  within  the  Papal  territory,  and  consequently  under 
the  jurisdiction  of  the  Roman  authorities.  "She  could  not 
quit  the  place  without  a  passport,"  says  one  of  her  biogra- 
phers, "  which  document  the  manager  of  the  Opera  House  at 
Rome  had  the  power  to  prevent  her  obtaining.  He  thus  held 
the  lady  in  such  firm  possession  as  would  effectually  bind  her 
from  appearing  at  the  other  theatre,  though  it  did  not  com- 
pel her  to  sing  at  his  own.  The  Minister  of  Police  at  Fermo, 
Count  GigliiTcci,  communicated  to  the  lady  the  restraint  im- 
posed upon  her  by  the  Roman  manager,  whereof  he,  the  count, 
was  the  unhappy  instrument;  adding  also  that  he  was  imder 
the  sad  necessity  of  placing  the  lady  under  arrest  till  she  should 
have  made  arrangements  satisfactory  to  the  impresario,  whose 
interest  he  i^rotected."  Being  quite  unwilling  to  become  a  he- 
roine at  such  a  price.  Miss  Novello  wrote  to  the  Earl  of  Aber- 
deen, then  Secretary  for  Foreign  Affairs,  Avho  promptly  inform- 
ed the  Roman  government  that "  such  proceedings  could  not 


CLARA   ANASTASIA   NOVELLO.  391 

be  sanctioned  toward  a  British  subject."  The  matter  was 
then  settled  by  arbitration.  The  Carnival  season  of  1842  \^'as 
to  extend  over  twelve  weeks,  and  for  six  weeks  the  songstress 
was  to  perform  at  Rome,  while  for  the  other  moiety  of  the 
time  she  was  to  be  at  the  service  of  the  impresario  at  Genoa. 

The  courtly  Count  Gigliucci,  in  making  a  captive  of  the 
charming  English  vocalist,  found  himself  bound  in  fetters 
stronger  than  ever  were  forged  by  the  hand  of  man,  and  from 
which  he  had  no  wish  to  be  free ;  in  short,  he  refused  to  let 
the  lady  depart  until  she  had  blushingly  confessed  that  he  was 
not  disagreeable  to  her.  It  was  eventually  arranged  that  when 
her  professional  engagements  had  been  fulfilled,  she  should  be- 
come the  Countess  Gigliucci. 

Miss  Novello  was  almost  worshiped  as  a  tenth  IMuse  at 
Rome  ;  the  theatre  was  crowded  whenever  she  appeared,  and 
on  the  19th  of  Januai-y,  1843,  when  she  took  her  benefit,  she 
received  an  ovation  such  as  had  not  been  equaled  for  years. 
A  shower  of  verses  and  bouquets,  waving  of  handkerchiefs, 
and  a  storm  of  applause,  greeted  her  appearance  as  Norma ; 
and  when  she  sang  "Casta  Diva"  the  furore  was  at  its  height: 
bouquets  and  coronals  (the  camellias  of  which  latter  alone,  it 
was  confidently  asserted,  were  estimated  at  100  scudi — twen- 
ty-five guineas  English !)  were  flung  at  her  feet,  and  the  au- 
dience recalled  her  twenty-nine  times !  At  the  conclusion  of 
Norma,  she  went  into  a  box  to  hear  Moriani  in  an  act  of  Lu- 
cia. The  audience,  catching  sight  of  her,  rose,  and,  regardless 
of  Moriani,  sprang  upon  the  benches  and  applauded  for  nearly 
ten  minutes.  Wlien  she  stei)pcd  into  her  carriage,  she  found 
herself  surrounded  by  the  elite  of  Rome,  bearing  upward  of 
a  hundred  wax  torches,  while  all  the  way  home  flowers  were 
showered  upon  her,  and  vivas  rent  the  air.  Arrived  at  home, 
her  house  was  beset  with  carriages,  from  Avhich  ladies  of  the 
first  rank  and  quality  Avaved  their  handkerchiefs,  while  the 
military  band  i)layed  her  most  po]nilar  airs,  and  the  shouts 
continued  of  "  Viva  la  Novello,  evviva !"  The  hall  and  stair- 
cases Avere  filled  with  her  admirers,  who,  as  she  ascended,  kept 
up  exclamations  of  "  Come  back  to  us,  Novello ;  don't  forget 
the  Romans !"  etc.,  etc.  By  degrees  the  streets  were  cleared, 
but  a  serenade  came  to  disturb  the  slumbers  earned  by  fa- 
tigue. The  Philharmonic  Society  of  Rome  voted  her  a  free 
diploma,  constituting  the  talented  English  prima  donna  an 
honorarv  member. 


392  QUEENS    OF   SONG. 

Her  reception  at  Genoa  offered  a  painful  contrast  to  this 
triumph,  for  when  she  appeared  in  I  Puritanic  with  Ivanoff, 
she  was  violently  hissed.  At  the  first  indication  of  disappro- 
bation Miss  Novello  quitted  the  stage,  and  it  was  only  by  the 
most  earnest  entreaties  that  she  could  be  persuaded  to  return. 
She  reappeared  before  her  old  admirers,  pale  as  a  statue,  and 
absolutely  speechless  from  emotion ;  but  her  appearance  and 
manner  soon  reduced  the  audience  to  silence,  and  she  had  an 
opportunity  of  explaining  to  the  dissatisfied  audience  the  cause 
of  the  failure  of  her  powers.  "Signori,"  she  said,  calmly,  "to 
make  me  sing  at  present  is  an  outrage !  The  Genoese  re- 
ceived me  with  so  much  kindness  last  year  that  I  exhausted  my 
strength  in  my  journey  to  be  with  them  at  the  earliest  mo- 
ment. It  would  be  an  insult  to  them,  for  whom  I  feel  so  much 
gratitude,  were  I  to  continue  to  sing  any  longer.  I  have  done 
all  I  could  to  content  them."  Miss  Novello  appeared  in  Feb- 
ruary in  a  new  opera,  written  expressly  for  her,  on  the  story 
of  Virginius.     She  arrived  in  London  in  March,  1843. 

Mr.  Macready,  the  eminent  tragedian,  had  undertaken  the 
management  of  Drury  Lane  Theatre,  with  the  view  of  raising 
the  English  drama  from  the  depressed  state  into  which  it  had 
fallen ;  and  a  part  of  his  plan  was  to  bring  forward  first-class 
musical  pieces,  to  be  performed  by  English  artistes.     His  op- 
eratic comjjany  consisted  of  Miss  Clara  Novello ;  Mrs.  Alfred 
Shaw,  one  of  the  most  popular  of  English  soprani;  Mrs.  Serle, 
Mr,  Henry  Phillips,  Mr.  Allen,  etc.     The  choice  of  the  opera 
which  was  to  oj^en  the  camjjaign  Avas   rather   unfortunate. 
Pacini's  Sappho^  a  "grand,"  weak,  pretty,  somewhat  insipid 
work,  was  selected,  this  being  the  first  time  of  its  production 
in  this  country.    To  Miss  Novello  was  assigned  the  jDassionate 
character  of  Sappho,  Mrs.  Alfred  Sliaw  appeared  as  Climene, 
and  Mrs.  Serle  as  Dirce ;  Messrs.  Phillips,  Allen,  Stretton,  and 
Reeves,  took  the  parts  of  Alcander,  Phaon,  Lysimachus,  and 
Hippias.     The  public  evinced  a  great  desire  to  hear  their  fa- 
vorite on  her  return  from  Italy,  and  to  ascertain  how  far  she 
had  improved  ;  consequently,  the  theatre  was  crowded  on  the 
1st  of  April.    The  opera  was  elegantly  mounted  ;  the  opening 
scene,  in  particular,  the  entrance  of  the  stadium  at  Olympia 
in  Elis,  where  the  Olympic  games  are  being  celebrated,  and 
Sappho  wins  the  lyric  crown,  was  beautiful  and  classic.    Clara 
Novello's  acting  Avas  energetic,  though  by  some  thought  to 


CLARA   ANASTASIA   NOVELLO,  393 

be  wanting  in  delicate  light  and  shade ;  but  the  impassioned 
character  of  the  Greek  songstress  needed  chiefly  vehement 
feeling.  Her  voice,  it  was  noticed,  had  wonderfully  improved, 
and  in  that  large  and  bold  style  of  ornament  which  was  the 
fashion  of  the  newest  Italian  school,  she  was  an  adept.  The 
duet  between  Sappho  and  Climene  was  admirably  sung.  Mrs. 
A.  Shaw  was  a  charming  singer,  and  remarkable  for  distinct- 
ness and  expression,  ^iappho  was  only  successful  on  account 
of  its  pretty  melodies  and  the  graceful  performance  of  Clara 
Novello  and  Mrs.  Shaw. 

It  was  followed  by  Handel's  Aeis  and  Galatea^  the  produc- 
tion of  which  forms  an  epoch  in  modern  theatrical  annals.  The 
scenery  of  Stanfield,  and  the  instrumentation  of  Mr.  T.  Cooke, 
assisted  in  creating  a  splendid  eSect.  The  character  of  Gala- 
tea was,  of  course,  undertaken  by  Miss  Novello,  and  Mr.  Allen 
was  the  Acis,  a  part  which  had  been  rendered  popular  by  Miss 
P.  Horton. 

The  character  of  Polyphemus  was  sustained  by  Ilerr  Stau- 
digl,  the  celebrated  baritone,  who,  by  the  force  of  his  genius, 
made  a  magnificent  impersonation  of  a  most  arduous  part. 
His  representation  of  the  gigantic  monster  was  only  too  kind- 
ly; he  sang  so  genially,  so  heartily,  that  the  idea  of  his  "hid- 
eous love"  was  lost :  he  was  no  longer  the  brutal  ogre,  but  a 
lai'ge-hearted,  ill-fated  lover,  who  had  the  misfortune  to  be  hor- 
ribly ugly ;  at  the  same  time,  he  enlisted  the  sympathies  of  the 
audience,  and  humanized  the  repulsive  aspect  and  ferocious 
character.  Staudigl  was  a  noble-minded  and  kind-hearted 
man,  as  well  as  a  great  artiste.  Young  Emery  this  season 
applied  to  him  to  know  his  terms  for  singing  at  his  benefit. 
"  You  are  the  son  of  a  great  actor,"  replied  the  German  basso, 
almost  reproachfully ;  "  my  terms  are  nothing :  you  may  an- 
nounce me  to  sing,  or  act,  or  whatever  you  please.  I  shall  feel 
it  a  duty  as  well  as  a  pleasure  to  appear." 

Clara  Novello  sang  the  lovely  melodies  of  Handel  infinitely 
better  than  the  graceful  inanities  of  Pacini.  Her  clear  pure 
tones  were  heard  in  this  serenata  to  the  utmost  advantasre,  es- 
pecially  in  the  last  air.  tiapplio  was  performed  again,  Stau- 
digl replacing  Henry  Phillips  as  Alcander,  the  High-Priest ;  a 
most  distasteful  character,  to  which  Avas  attached  the  weakest 
music  in  the  opera.  Staudigl  "  electrified"  the  audience,  and 
gave  his  part  character  and  color,  delivering  the  words  clearly 

R  2 


394  QUEENS    OF   SONG. 

and  distinctly,  without  any  defect  of  foreign  utterance ;  but 
no  genius  could  infuse  life  and  vigor  into  sucb  insipid  music. 
The  season  terminated  somewhat  abruptly,  Mr.  Macready's  ef- 
forts to  redeem  the  drama  having  met  with  unbounded  ap- 
plause, but  no  more  solid  proofs  of  the  public  approval. 

Miss  Novello  sang  at  the  leading  provincial  musical  meet- 
ings, gathering  fresh  laurels  at  every  step.  At  the  Birming- 
ham musical  festival,  where  she  sang  with  Miss  Rainforth,  Mrs. 
Knyvett,  Mrs.  Alfred  Shaw,  Henry  Phillips,  Fornasari,  and 
Signor  Mario,  she  was  greatly  admired.  When  she  appeared 
in  N'orma,  her  acting  and  singing  created  a  multitude  of  con- 
flicting opinions. 

Having  completed  her  engagements,  Clara  Novello  was 
married  on  October  22, 1843,  to  the  Count  Gigliucci,  and,  with- 
out any  formal  leave-taking,  quitted  public  life.  Immediately 
after  the  ceremony  the  happy  couple  left  London,  going  first 
to  Paris,  then  to  Naples.  Madame  Clara  Novello  was  the 
fourth  English  vocalist  who  gained  a  title  and  marriage  in 
modern  days,  the  others  being  Miss  Stephens  (Countess  of  Es- 
sex), Miss  Foote  (Countess  of  Harrington),  and  Miss  Bolton 
(Lady  Thurlow).  To  this  list  must  now  be  added  the  name 
of  Victoire  Balfe  (Lady  Crampton).  The  political  hurricane 
which  swept  over  Europe  in  1848  destroyed  the  fortunes  of 
many  a  noble  house  ;  and  the  Countess  Gigliucci,  like  her  sis- 
ter artiste,  the  amiable  Countess  Rossi,  was  rudely  aroused 
from  her  tranquillity  by  the  storm,  and  like  her,  too,  again  en- 
tered into  the  art-arena  to  retrieve  her  husband's  losses. 

In  1850  Madame  Novello  reappeared  in  the  musical  world 
as  unostentatiously  as  she  had  left  it.  She  presented  herself 
first  at  Rome ;  in  December  she  appeared  at  Lisbon,  Avhere  she 
obtained  a  triumph  in  Beatrice  di  Tenda.  She  appeared  at 
our  musical  festivals  in  1852,  and  thenceforth,  in  England,  she 
restricted  herself  to  singing  at  concerts  and  festivals.  She  is, 
therefore,  best  known  here  as  the  interpreter  of  the  works  of 
the  great  masters  of  sacred  song.  Her  voice  had  gained  in 
power,  brilliancy,  and  refinement  during  her  retirement,  and 
her  style  was  noble,  and,  above  all,  thoroughly  English.  While 
capable,  as  she  had  from  girlhood  proved  herself,  of  singing 
the  masterpieces  of  foreign  music,  she  sang  British  ballads  as 
no  one  else  could  sing  them ;  she  could  render  the  grand  ora- 
torio music  of  Handel,  Haydn,  and  Mozart,  and  with  equal 


* 
CLAEA  ANASTASIA   NOVELLO.  395 

beauty  sing  the  simple  strains  of  "John  Anderson"  and  "Auld 
Robin  Gray."  But  the  beauty  and  purity  of  her  voice,  the 
exquisite  delicacy  of  her  style,  and  the  refinement  of  her  man- 
ner, were  eminently  adapted  to  sacred  music,  and  the  exalta- 
tion of  her  feeling  was  most  apparent  in  devotional  music. 

Her  voice, "  so  available,  it  would  seem  for  all  puii^oses,  so 
capable,  so  beautiful,  and  so  telling,  is  toned  down  and  sober- 
ed," says  an  able  writer,  "  to  a  religious  feeling  that  lends  it 
its  peculiar  characteristic,  and  makes  it  almost  sombre  in  ex- 
IH'ession  and  coloring.  From  this  peculiarity,  this  sombreness 
of  tone,  Madame  Novello  derives  her  sj^ecial  power  in  sacred 
music.  Of  the  demonstrative  quality,  so  indispensable  to  the 
dramatic  singer,  she  exhibits  but  little,  and  is  seldom  outwai'd- 
ly  energetic  or  forcible.  Intensity  without  display,  and  ear- 
nestness arising  from  a  manner  full  of  repose  and  always  ab- 
sorbed, constitute  the  specialties  which  distinguish  Madame 
Novello  from  all  other  singers  of  sacred  music.  So  rapt,  in- 
deed, is  she  at  most  times  in  her  performance,  that,  even  when 
singing,  could  our  ears  deceive  us  so,  she  might  stand  as  an 
exemplification  of  Wordsworth's  Nun, '  breathless  with  adora- 
tion.' Whether  this  be  pure  instinct  or  the  most  consummate 
art,  we  can  not  say.  In  either  case  the  result  is  the  same,  and 
the  wonderful  influence  of  the  vocalist  is  made  manifest." 

At  a  concert  given  by  Signer  Puzzi  at  Drury  Lane  Theatre, 
July  5,  1853,  Madame  Novello  appeared  in  I  Puritanic  with 
Signori  Gardoni,  Marchesi,  and  Burdini,  creating  a  deep  sensa- 
tion by  the  "  fervor  of  her  acting  and  the  excellence  of  her 
singing."     This  was  her  last  dramatic  display  in  England. 

Madame  Novello  concluded  an  engagement  for  three  years 
with  La  Scala,  Milan,  and  commenced  January,  1854,  with  Ver- 
di's Migoletto.  As  Gilda,  the  favorite  character  of  Madame 
Bosio,  our  charming  English  vocalist  created  a  furore,  and 
throughout  she  sustained  her  reputation  in  Italy  as  a  dramatic 
singer.  The  Carnival  of  that  year  opened  somewhat  inauspi- 
ciously,  and  she  had  some  difficulties  to  contend  with ;  a  new 
opera  by  Puzzi,  II  Convito  di  JBaldassare,  disappointed  the 
Milanese,  who  expected  something  unusually  excellent  from 
the  composer;  it  was  produced  with  great  splendor,  but  the 
singers  vainly  exerted  themselves  to  bear  up  against  the  tame, 
hastily- written  score. 

Apart  from  her  beautiful  voice,  Madame  Novello  was  inval- 


396  QUEENS   OF   SONG. 

liable  in  an  operatic  company,  from  her  steady  and  correct  in- 
tonation, and  thorough  musical  knowledge.  Miss  Sabilla  No- 
vello,  in  her  work  on  The  Voice  and  Vocal  Art,  mentions  a 
most  interesting  example  of  her  sister's  unfailing  surety  of  in- 
tonation. At  the  rehearsal  of  a  new  opera  at  La  Scala,  Ma- 
dame Novello,  in  the  finale,  consisting  of  a  double  quartette 
I  and  chorus,  performed  without  orchestral  accompaniments, 

\  kept  the  pitch,  notwithstanding  the  chorus  sank  and  dragged 

i  the  other  solo  voices  down  with  them.     The  first  violin,  fan- 

1  eying  the  prima  donna  might  be  getting  sharj),  sounded  her 

note  on  his  instrument,  and  found  her  perfectly  in  tune,  al- 
though the  chorus  and  other  solo  voices  had  sunk  half  a  note ! 
After  repeated  rehearsals,  this  finale  had  to  be  changed  into  a 
quintette,  from  the  impossibility  of  keeping  the  chorus  up  to 
the  pitch. 

At  the  Norwich  festival  in  1854,  Madame  Novello  sang  with 
Madame  Bosio,  Lablache,  Gardoni,  and  Mr.  Sims  Reeves.  For 
four  days'  performances  she  received  three  hundred  guineas. 
The  following  year,  her  admirers  at  Birmingham  were  greatly 
disappointed  and  angered  by  the  non-appearance  of  their  favor- 
ite. The  committee  objected  to  her  demand  of  three  hundred 
guineas,  and  offered  only  the  terms  she  had  received  in  her 
girlish  days,  which  they  must  have  known  she  would  not  ac- 
cept. This  was  the  only  occasion  on  which  any  of  the  festivals 
suffered  from  her  absence. 

But  it  was  in  June,  1859,  that  Madame  Novello  achieved 
her  grandest  triumph,  on  the  occasion  of  the  Handel  Festival 
at  the  Crystal  Palace,  where  she  sang  with  Miss  Dolby,  Ma- 
dame Sherrington,  Mr.  Sims  Reeves,  Mr.  Weiss,  and  Signer 
Belletti,  and  an  accompanying  host  of  nearly  three  thousand 
vocal  and  instrumental  performers,  in  the  presence  of  twenty- 
seven  thousand  auditors.  The  clear,  jDure  tones  of  her  voice, 
full,  rich,  brilliant,  and  perfectly  distinct,  jDenetrated  to  every 
corner  of  the  enormous  structure — a  place  any  thing  but  fa- 
vorable to  the  transmission  of  sound.  That  magnificent  dis- 
play of  beautiful  and  impressive  singing  is  indelibly  stamped 
on  the  memory  of  all  who  heard  it. 

Unlike  her  great  predecessor,  Mara,  Madame  Novello  re- 
solved to  withdraw  from  the  arena  of  public  life  in  the  fullness 
of  her  powers.    Never  had  she  gained  such  triumphs  as  in  the 


CLAEA   ANASTASIA   NOVELLO.  397 

year  which  she  fixed  for  her  final  retirement,  for  time  had  add- 
ed to  the  purity,  delicacy,  and  refinement  of  her  style. 

The  Queen  of  English  Soprani  took  her  leave  at  the  Crystal 
Palace  in  the  3fessiah;  but  she  also  gave,  November  24, 1860, 
a  farewell  concert  at  St.  James's  Hall.  Her  farewell,  it  was 
justly  remarked,  was  in  admirable  harmony  with  her  pure  and 
spotless  career.  "  It  was  a  raanilestation  of  pure,  unadultera- 
ted art  from  beginning  to  end,"  observed  a  leading  musical 
journal ;  "  and  at  the  termination  of  the  concert  the  vast  as- 
sembly dispersed  with  the  most  intimate  conviction  that  music 
had  lost  one  of  its  most  gifted  and  justly  distinguished  repre- 
sentatives"—  one  who  for  ten  years,  with  Mr.  Sims  Reeves, 
had  maintained  the  English  school  at  a  lofty  standard  of  excel- 
lence. Madame  Novello's  voice,  though  she  was  evidently 
suffering  from  indisposition,  was  as  clear,  bright,  penetrating, 
flexible,  and  vigorous,  as  unerringly  modulated  as  ever.  It 
was  only  just  that  Clara  Novello's  adieu  should  be  sung  to 
Mendelssohn's  music,  therefore  she  selected  that  master's  un- 
finished Loreley  as  the  principal  feature  of  the  concert;  the  sec- 
ond part  of  the  programme  consisting  of  Benedict's  Undine^ 
in  which  the  departing  prima  donna  Avas  assisted  by  Miss 
Palmer,  Mr.  Wilbye  Cooper,  and  Mr.  Weiss.  Her  final  dis- 
play was  a  solo  verse  of  "God  save  the  Queen,"  that  piece  in 
which  she  had  so  often  electrified  thousands  at  the  Crystal 
Palace. 

The  Countess  Gigliucci  is  now  residing  in  Italy  with  her 
familv. 


398 


QUEENS    OF   SONG. 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

PAULINE   VIAEDOT    GARCIA. 

Pauline,  the  second  daughter  of  the  famous  singer  and  mu- 
sician Garcia,  was  born  in  Paris  on  the  18th  of  July,  1821. 
Her  elder  sister,  Maria,  then  thirteen,  was  painfully  studying 
under  the  direction  of  her  father,  standing  pale  and  timid  be- 
hind his  chair,  and  learning  the  way  to  sing  steadily  while  the 
tears  were  streaming  down  her  cheeks.  Her  brother,  Manuel, 
then  a  lad,  was  also  studying,  to  assist  his  father  as  a  teacher. 
On  the  29th  of  August  the  child  was  presented  for  baptism  in 
the  parish  church  of  St.  Roch,  having  for  sponsors  the  celebra- 
ted Ferdiuando  Paer  and  the  Princess  Pauline  Prascovie  of  Ga- 
litzin  (Countess  of  Schonvalsh),  and  was  named  Michelle  Fer- 
dinande  Pauline.  At  the  age  of  three  Pauline  left  Paris  with 
her  family,  her  father  being  engaged  at  the  Opera  House  in 
London,  and  Maria  having  been  pronounced  by  him  a  finished 
singer,  fully  qualified  to  take  an  engagement.  The  next  year, 
Gai'cia  being  struck  with  the  happy  notion  of  establishing  an 
Opera  in  America,  the  whole  family  started  for  New  York. 

The  company  had  been  performing  for  some  time,  when 
Garcia  lost  his  prima  donna,  Mai-ia,  who  unfortunately  accept- 
ed the  hand  of  M.  Malibran.  When  the  crash  came  which 
made  Maria  worse  than  widowed,  Garcia  abruptly  quitted 
New  York,  going  with  his  wife  and  youngest  child  to  Mexico, 
where  he  commenced  a  series  of  operatic  performances.  Lit- 
tle Pauline  here  received  some  lessons  on  the  piano-forte  from 
Marcos  Vega,  organist  of  the  Cathedral.  She  was  singularly 
clever,  and  at  the  age  of  six  could  speak  with  equal  facility 
four  languages  —  French,  Spanish,  Italian,  and  English.  To 
these  she  subsequently  added  German,  in  Avhich  she  became  a 
proficient ;  and  she  learned,  before  she  was  eight-and-twenty, 
to  read  Latin  and  Greek.  Her  lessons  were  suddenly  inter- 
rupted, however.  Civil  war  broke  out  in  Mexico  immediately 
after  the  declaration  of  independence,  and  the  scenes  of  con- 
flict were  dreadful  to  witness.     Garcia,  fearing  that  he  should 


MADASJK  VIAKDOT  GAECIA. 


PAULIXE   VIAKDOT   GAECIA.  401 

lose  all  his  earnings,  resolved  to  return  to  Europe.  Maria  was 
in  New  York,  and  Manuel  had  left  the  preceding  year  (1826) 
to  visit  France.  Turning  his  money  into  ingots  of  gold  and 
silver,  Garcia  started  at  once. 

The  little  party,  perfectly  aware  of  the  dangers  of  the  way, 
were  traveling  rapidly  on  their  road  over  the  mountains  lead- 
ing from  Mexico  to  Vera  Cruz,  when  a  band  of  brigands  Avay- 
laid  and  robbed  them..  There  was  some  diy  humor  about 
these  wretches,  for,  though  they  stripped  the  famous  tenor, 
intending  to  leave  him  bound,  with  a  guard  to  prevent  *liis 
raising  an  alarm,  on  discovering  that  he  was  a  singer,  they 
were  determined  to  have  some  fun.  Untying  him,  they  rough- 
ly placed  him,  naked  as  he  was,  on  a  rock,  and  ordered  him  to 
sing  for  their  amusement.  Manuel  Garcia  was  not  exactly  the 
kind  of  man  to  submit  quietly  to  this  treatment,  even  at  the 
muzzle  of  a  gun,  and  he  refused  to  obey  their  command.  They 
persisted,  and  began  to  threaten  ;  so,  thinking  that  perhaps 
they  might  be  as  good  (or  as  bad)  as  their  word,  Garcia  com- 
menced ;  but  fatigue  and  agitation  combined  to  choke  his 
voice,  and  he  sang  so  vilely  that  his  strange  audience  hissed 
violently.  Astounded  and  enraged  at  such  an  indignity — an 
outrage  to  which  he  had  never  before  been  subjected  —  the 
great  tenor  raised  his  head  with  a  haughty  gesture,  and,  gath- 
ering strength  and  courage,  burst  into  one  of  his, most  magnifi- 
cent flights  of  song.  "This  so  charmed  his  hearers  that  they 
drowned  his  voice  with  cries  of '  bravo !'  and  a  loud  slapping 
of  their  hands,  took  him  down  from  his  elevation,  restored  to 
him  his  clothes  and  a  portion  of  his  money,  and  gave  him  an 
escort  to  the  coast." 

By  this  catastrophe,  which  Pauline,  child  as  she  was,  never  for- 
got, her  father  lost  upward  of  000,000  francs  (about  £21,000), 
the  product  of  his  labors  and  travels.  He  managed,  howev- 
er, to  embark  safely,  and  found  consolation  for  his  disaster 
in  teaching  Pauline  during  the  long  and  dreary  voyage.  It 
was  on  their  passage  that  he  gave  her  her  first  vocal  instruc- 
tions, composing  little  pieces  expressly  for  her,  with  words 
from  all  languages.  "We  have  seen  these  curious  polyglot 
vocabularies,"  says  a  writer  in  the  Musical  World.,  "  Avhich 
must  have  been  of  excellent  effect  in  training  the  infant  ear  and 
voice  in  the  art  of  part  singing,  and  furnishing  it  with  a  diver- 
sity of  idiom."  Her  father  was  very  fond  of  this  mild  darling, 
26 


402  QUEENS    OF   SONG. 

whom  be  preferred  to  the  brilliant,  willful  Maria.  "  Pauline," 
he  would  say,  "can  be  guided  by  a  thread  of  silk;  Maria  needs 
a  hand  of  iron." 

At  seven  Pauline  could  play  the  j^iano-forte  sufficiently  well 
to  accompany  her  father's  pupils,  and  Garcia,  seeing  the  taste 
she  evinced  for  this  instrument,  confided  her  to  the  excellent 
master  Meysenberg,  under  whose  care  she  made  rapid  prog- 
ress. Conscious  herself  of  a  decided  talent  for  the  piano-forte, 
she  devoted  three  years  to  finger  exercise  alone.  She  was 
then  placed  under  the  direction  of  the  eminent  Franz  Liszt, 
one  of  whose  most  distinguished  pupils  she  became.  It  was 
probably  under  the  care  of  this  master  that  she  gained  that 
accuracy  and  brilliancy  of  musical  conception  which  afterward 
shone  forth  in  her  admirable  vocal  performances.  Liszt,  with 
whom  she  executed  the  most  difficult  and  complicated  works 
of  Bach,  wished  very  much  that  she  should,  like  himself,  aim 
at  celebrity  as  a  pianist.  Her  health,  however,  was  not  equal 
to  the  fatigue  caused  by  so  sedentary  a  study,  and  she  could 
give  only  so  much  attention  as  would  enable  her  to  accompa- 
ny herself;  but  she  was  so  far  finished  that  when  she  was  four- 
teen or  fifteen  she  was  able  to  perform  at  the  concerts  of  her 
sister  Maria.  Garcia  thought  her  voice  and  talents  far  train- 
scended  those  of  Maria,  and  when  a  buzz  of  ecstatic  admira- 
tion about  the  voice  of  Madame  Malibran  met  his  ear,  he 
would  rejoin,  "There  is  a  younger  sister  who  is  a  greater  gen- 
ius than  she." 

Pauline  lost  her  father  when  she  was  only  eleven,  and  short- 
ly after  the  death  of  her  husband  Madame  Garcia  visited  Paris. 
The  good  lady  took  up  her  residence  with  Adolphe  Nourrit, 
one  of  Manuel's  most  eminent  pupils;  and  Nourrit,  a  man  of 
kind  disposition,  took  the  keenest  interest  in  the  young  Pau- 
line. He  strove  to  cheer  and  advise  the  widow  of  his  old 
master,  and,  with  mistaken  zeal,  Avas  very  anxious  to  persuade 
Rossini  to  become  the  teacher  of  Pauline.  The  maestro  con- 
sented, and  Nourrit  brought  the  news  to  Madame  Garcia  with 
a  face  beaming  with  delight.  What  was  his  amazement  when 
she  quietly  declined  the  offer.  He  could  hardly  believe  that 
she  was  in  earnest  to  reject  such  a  teacher  as  the  master-spirit 
of  the  age !  and  he  was  still  more  astounded  when  she  added 
that  her  son  Manuel  should  be  Pauline's  instructor,  and  that, 
should  her  son  not  be  able  to  come  from  Italy  for  the  purpose. 


PAULINE   VIAKDOT   GAECIA.  403 

she  would  take  Pauliue  in  hand  herself.  Nourrit  was  not 
aware  of  the  vast  difterence  between  the  systems  pursued  by 
Rossini  and  the  Garcias.  Professional  ensfaaiements  detained 
Manuel  in  Italy ;  so,  confident  in  her  own  resources,  and  that 
soundness  of  principle  on  which  the  school  of  Garcia  was  found- 
ed, the  widowed  lady  applied  herself  to  her  labor  of  love. 

It  may  be  said,  however,  that  in  reality  Pauline  educated 
herself;  certainly  she  gained  nothing  from  her  sister  Maria, 
for  the  wandering  life  of  the  latter  gave  few  opportunities  for 
them  to  meet;  and  as  her  mother  removed  to  Brussels,  Pau- 
line, even  when  her  brother  came  to  Paris,  was  unable  to  profit 
by  his  instructions.  What  she  acquired  was  the  result  of  her 
own  spontaneous  studies,  guided  by  the  taste  and  judicious 
counsels  of  her  mother.  Pauline  was  eager,  quick,  enthusiastic, 
and,  above  all,  industrious.  She  had  a  fixed  point  to  aim  at, 
and  now  commenced  her  studies  with  earnestness.  Previously 
she  had  learned  in  a  desultory  manner,  though  her  intelligence 
enabled  her  to  appreciate  fine  music ;  and  she  was  so  smitten 
with  the  beautiful  melodies  of  Schubert,  that  she  copied  them 
all  with  her  own  hand.  "  A  remarkable  instance,"  says  some 
one,  "  of  solitary  and  spontaneous  enthusiasm."  She  entered 
upon  a  course  of  laborious  vocal  training ;  and  having  exhaust- 
ed the  solfeggi  which  her  father  had  Avritten  for  her  sister 
Maria,  the  happy  idea  crossed  her  mind  that  she  might  com- 
pose some  for  herself.  She  was  thus  obliged  to  bring  into 
actual  exercise  the  principles  of  harmony  and  counterpoint 
which  she  had  learned  from  Reicha.  She  also  acquired  other 
accomplishments  besides  music.  Without  any  master,  she 
learned,  like  her  sister,  to  draw  and  to  paint  in  water-colors ; 
she  sketched  portraits,  caricatures,  and  costumes.  Living  in 
retirement  at  Brussels,  entirely  devoted  to  her  studies,  and 
assisted  by  the  advice  of  her  mother,  Pauline  rapidly  neared 
the  goal  which  she  Avas  determined  to  reach.  She  was  just 
sixteen  when,  flushed  with  conscious  genius,  she  exclaimed, 
"  Ed  io  anch^  son  cantatrice." 

Her  voice,  originally  somewhat  harsh  and  unmanageable, 
had  been  tutored  into  perfect  pliancy  and  beauty.  Like  the 
organ  of  her  sister  in  quality,  it  combined  the  two  registers  of 
soprano  and  contralto,  from  low  F  to  C  above  the  lines ;  but 
the  upper  part  was  formed  chiefly  by  art.  Like  that  exquisite 
voice,  too,  it  had  the  soul-stirring  tone,  the  sympathetic  and 


404  QUEEKS    OF   SONG.  « 

touching  character  which  penetrates  to  the  heart.  It  was  pure 
and  mellow,  though  not  of  the  most  powerful  order.  Her  sing- 
ing was  expressive,  "descriptive,  thrilling,  full,  equal  and  just, 
brilliant  and  vibrating,  especially  in  the  medium  and  in  the 
lower  chords.  Capable  of  every  style  of  art,  it  was  adapted  to 
all  the  feelings  of  nature,  but  particularly  to  outbursts  of  grief, 
joy,  or  despair.  "The  dramatic  coloring  which  her  voice  im- 
parts to  the  slightest  shades  of  feeling  and  passion  is  a  real 
phenomenon  of  vocalization  which  can  not  be  analyzed,"  says 
Escudier.  "No  singer  we  ever  heard,  with  the  excei^tion  of 
Malibran,"  says  another  critic,  "  could  produce  the  same  effect 
by  means  of  a  few  simple  notes.  It  is  neither  by  the  peculiar 
power,  the  peculiar  depth,  nor  the  pccviliar  sweetness  of  these 
tones  that  the  sensation  is  created,  but  by  something  inde- 
scribable in  the  quality  which  moves  you  to  tears  in  the  very 
hearings." 

Her  first  public  appeai'ance  was  worthy  the  future  of  Pauline 
Garcia.  It  was  at  Brussels,  on  the  15th  of  December,  1837, 
that  she  sang  at  a  concert  for  the  benefit  of  the  poor ;  and  on 
this  occasion  De  Beriot  made  his  first  ai:)pearance  after  the 
death  of  his  wife.  The  king  and  queen,  the  Prince  de  Ligne, 
the  corps  diplomatique,  and  many  persons  of  celebrity,  were 
present.  This  concert  opened  nobly  the  career  of  the  young 
artiste.  The  Philharmonic  Society  caused  two  medals  to  be 
struck  for  De  Beriot  and  Mdlle.  Garcia,  the  mould  of  which 
was  immediately  broken. 

After  some  other  performances  equally  brilliant,  Pauline 
quitted  Belgium  for  Germany,  with  her  mother  and  De  Beriot. 
Her  name,  her  talent,  gained  for  the  young  debutante  a  warm 
welcome  every  where.  The  Queen  of  Prussia  sent  her  a 
splendid  suite  of  emeralds.  At  Frankfort  she  sang  a  duo  with 
Mdlle.  Sontag,  who  was  on  the  eve  of  departing  for  St.  Peters- 
burg. Probably  Henrietta  recalled  the  days  of  her  glorious 
rivalry  with  the  dead  sister  of  Pauline,  when  they  had  walked 
on  flowers  to  receive  the  ovations  offered  by  Pai'is  and  London. 
In  the  summer  of  1838  Pauline  and  her  mother  left  Germany, 
and  after  a  short  stay  in  Brussels  finally  arrived  in  Pai'is. 

The  15th  of  December,  the  anniversary  of  the  Brussels  con- 
cert, Pauline  appeared  in  public  with  De  Beriot  at  the  Theatre 
de  la  Renaissance,  and  a  crowded  audience  greeted  her  with 
loud  applause.    She  sang  an  air  by  Costa,  difiicult  both  from 


•PAULINE  VIAEDOT  GAECIA.  405 

its  compass  and  from  the  recollection  evoked  of  her  sister ;  an 
air  by  De  Beriot,  and  the  "  Cadence  du  Diable,"  imitated  from 
"Tartini's  Dream,"  which  she  accompanied  on  the  piano  with 
infinite  grace  and  skill.  Her  second  appearance  was  at  a  con- 
cert given  by  "  La  France  Musicale,"  in  the  saloon  of  M.  Herz, 
when  she  w'as  supported  by  Rubini,  Lablache,  and  Ivanoff. 
Her  admirable  performance  on  this  occasion  confirmed  her 
rising  fame,  by  revealing  the  precision,  firmness,  boldness,  and 
brilliancy  of  her  style. 

England,  however,  was  the  country  selected  by  Pauline  Gar- 
cia for  her  theatrical  debut.  She  was  eighteen  years  of  age 
when,  on  Thursday,  May  9,  1839,  she  made  her  first  appear- 
ance at  Her  Majesty's  Theatre,  in  the  same  opera  in  which  her 
sister  Maria  had  made  her  debut  before  an  English  audience 
—  Otello.  Undismayed  by  traditionary  impressions,  by  the  rec- 
o^- lections  of  Malibran,  of  Pasta,  and  of  Sontag,  Pauline  gave 
to  the  part  a  new  reading.  The  public  were  intensely  anxious 
to  hear  this  gifted  sister  of  their  lost  favorite,  and  listened 
eagerly  to  any  account  of  her  genius.  At  the  rehearsal,  her 
voice,  style,  execution,  expression,  manner  —  in  short,  every 
thing  but  external  appearance — bore  so  strong  a  resemblance 
to  Maria,  that  the  performers  were  afiected,  and  tears  were  seen 
to  steal  down  the  cheeks  of  the  most  veteran  artiste.  Nothing, 
save  a  little  more  physical  power,  was  needed  to  complete  the 
singular  likeness. 

Every  one  noticed  the  singular  resemblance  existing  be- 
tween her  voice  and  that  of  her  sister  Maria.  One  day  a  young 
lady  was  taking  a  lesson  from  Lablache,  who  lodged  in  the 
same  house  with  Mdlle.  Garcia.  The  great  basso  was  explain- 
ing to  her  the  manner  in  which  Malibran  gave  the  air  from 
Norma,)  which  she  was  about  to  try ;  Avhen,  at  the  moment 
the  pupil  seated  herself  at  the  piano,  a  voice  Avas  heard  in 
the  adjoining  room  singing  this  cavatina :  it  was  Mdllc.  Pau- 
line; but  the  young  girl,  struck  with  superstitious  terror,  im- 
agined that  a  phantom  had  come  to  give  her  a  lesson,  and  she 
fainted. 

In  person  there  was  but  a  slight  resemblance  between  the 
sisters.  Pauline's  figure  was  tall  and  elegant,  occasionally  com- 
manding, her  physiognomy  noble,  expressive,  and  full  of  char- 
acter;  but  her  features  were  far  from  being  handsome,  the  out- 
lino  of  her  face  being  somewhat  harsh  and  irregular ;  her  fore- 


406  QUEENS   OP   SONG.  * 

head  was  broad  and  intellectual ;  her  hair  was  of  a  rich  black, 
her  complexion  pale,  contrasting  charmingly  with  large  black 
eyes,  ardent,  and  full  of  fire.  Her  walk  was  gi-ave  and  digni- 
fied, and  her  carriage  majestic  and  easy.  "  She  looked  older 
than  her  years,"  Mr.  Chorley  says  (in  his  Meminiscences) ;  ^'her 
frame  (then  a  mere  reed)  quivered  this  way  and  that;  her 
character  dress  seemed  to  puzzle  her,  and  the  motion  of  her 
hands  as  much.  Her  voice  was  hardly  settled,  even  within  its 
after-conditions;  and  yet — paradoxical  as  it  may  seem — she 
was  at  ease  on  the  stage,  because  she  had  brought  thither  in- 
stinct for  acting,  experience  of  music,  knowledge  how  to  sing, 
and  consummate  intelligence.  There  could  be  no  doubt  with 
any  one  who  saw  Desdemona  on  that  night  that  another  great 
career  was  begun." 

Her  singing  created  a  marked  sensation.  The  high  and  low 
notes  seemed  to  be  produced  without  eifort,  yet  were  suffi- 
ciently powerful  to  fill  the  house  with  a  flood  of  clear,  sweet, 
rich  melody.  Her  powers  were,  however,  still  immature; 
though  her  acting,  like  her  singing,  was  full  of  promise,  and 
her  conception  surprising.  "  By  the  firmness  of  her  step  and 
the  general  confidence  of  her  deportment,"  observes  a  contem- 
porary critic,  "  we  were  at  first  induced  to  believe  that  she 
was  not  nervous ;  but  the  improvement  of  every  succeeding 
song,  and  the  warmth  with  which  she  gave  the  latter  part  of 
the  opera,  convinced  us  that  her  powers  must  have  been  con- 
fined by  something  like  apprehension."  Rubini  was  the  Otel- 
lo;  Tamburini,  lago ;  and  Lablache,  Elmiro.  June  15,  Mdlle. 
Garcia  apj^eared  in  La  Cenerentola  with  the  same  great  sing- 
ers. As  Angelina  she  was  even  more  admired  than  as  Desde- 
njona.  Her  pure  taste,  her  unexaggerated  triith,  her  perfect 
facility  of  execution  combined  to  render  her  performance  near- 
ly faultless,  desi^ite  her  youth  and  inexperience  of  the  stage. 
"She  has,"  says  one  writer,  "more  feeling  than  Madame  Cinti 
Damoreau  in  the  part  in  which  the  greater  portion  of  Europe 
has  assigned  to  her  the  pre-eminence,  and  execution,  even  now, 
in  very  nearly  equal  perfection."  Every  note  was  clear  and 
distinct  as  a  clarionet,  and  she  was  rewarded  by  "  thunders  of 
applause." 

M.  Viardot,  an  eminent  literary  man,  was  then  director  of 
the  Italian  Opera  of  Paris,  and  being  in  London,  he  ofiered 
Mdlle.  Garcia  the  position  of  prima  donna  for  the  approaching 


PAULIXE   VIAEDOT   GAECIA.  407 

season.  She  had  ah-eady  received  similar  oifers  from  the  thea- 
tre, but,  young  and  inexperienced,  she  shrank  from  undertak- 
ing a  responsibility  -which  she  felt  was  too  much  for  a  girl  of 
eighteen  ;  she,  however,  consented  to  appear  for  a  few  nights. 
Great  was  the  impatience  of  the  Parisian  public  to  hear  the 
young  cantatrice  in  opera,  and  every  box  was  taken  at  the 
ItaUens  for  the  performances.  Her  debut  took  place  on  the 
8th  of  October,  and  was  long  remembered  as  the  brightest  tri- 
umph on  the  French  lyric  stage,  since  Malibran  made  her  de- 
but. She  appeared  as  Desdemona,  with  Rubini,  Tamburini, 
and  Lablache,  and  realized  the  most  sanguine  expectations. 
The  audience  were  struck  with  the  wonderful  extent  of  her 
voice,  her  admirable  musical  knowledge,  and  the  perfect  cor- 
rectness of  her  costume.  The  only  drawbacks  were  her  youth 
and  inexperience ;  but  the  critics  assured  her,  almost  apoleget- 
ically,  that  this  slight  disadvantage  would  disappear  but  too 
soon.  Her  second  character  was  Angelina,  in  La  Cenerentola; 
her  third  part  was  Rosiua,  in  II  Barhiere.  An  accidental  fail- 
ure of  memory,  although  disguised  by  brilliant  improvisations, 
was  injurious  to  the  effect  of  the  first  representation  of  II  Bar- 
hiere. Rosina,  notwithstanding  her  dazzling  vocalization,  per- 
haps even  owing  to  it,  in'oved  not  the  Rosina  that  the  audience 
had  anticipated.  She  achieved  a  triumph,  but  it  was  rather  a 
tribute  to  her  great  musical  skill,  which  enabled  her  to  conceal 
beneath  the  splendor  of  extempore  melody  the  failure  of  her 
memory.  On  her  second  appearance  she  made  a  glorious  atone- 
ment, and  the  part  of  Rosina  has  ever  been  played  and  sung 
by  her  with  an  exquisite  perfection.  For  her  benefit  slie  ap- 
peared, with  Madame  Persiani,  Rubini,  and  Tamburini,  in 
Tancredi;  and  for  the  benefit  of  Fanny  Elssler,  February, 
1840,  she  performed  in  the  last  act  of  Otello,  with  Duprez. 

Mdlle.  Garcia  and  M.  Viardot  were  married  April  18,  1840, 
when  they  left  for  Italy ;  M.  Viardot  resigning  his  post  at  the 
Opera,  being  charged  with  an  important  mission  by  the  Min- 
ister of  the  Interior  relative  to  the  fine  arts.  The  following 
year  Madame  Viardot  reappeared  in  England.  Her  Majesty's 
Theatre  opened  jMarch  IG,  with  GU  Oraxi  eel  i  Curiazi.  Ma- 
dame Viardot  performed  Orazia,  and  confirmed  the  favorable 
impression  she  had  made  the  preceding  season.  In  several 
parts  of  the  opera  her  singing  and  acting  were  superb,  and 
many  concurred  in  awarding  the  crown  of  Pasta  and  Malibran 


408  QUEENS   OF   SONG. 

to  tlie  young  vocalist.    Mario  was  the  Orazio,  and  a  Miss  Ali- 
cia Nunu  made  her  debut  as  Curiazio.  i 

The  health  of  Madame  Viardot  was  not  strong,  and  her 
physical  energies  were  quite  unequal  to  the  strain  upon  her 
ardent  nature ;  she  was,  therefore,  obliged  to  decline  the  offers 
both  of  the  London  and  Paris  managers,  preferring  to  travel 
and  visit  Spain,  the  native  land  of  her  mother.  In  June,  1841, 
she  was  singing  at  Madrid,  and  on  her  second  appearance,  as 
Desdemona,  the  audience  so  eagerly  testified  their  ecstasy  that 
the  amiable  songstress,  flattered  probably  by  such  unrestrained 
expressions  of  delight,  voluntarily  sang  the  rondo  finale  from 
La  Cenerentola.  Si)ell-boimd,  the  audience  found  it  impossi- 
ble to  tear  themselves  away,  and  called  the  charming  song- 
stress again  and  again  to  receive  their  repeated  applause.  The 
curtain  fell  and  the  baud  disappeared,  but  the  crowd  would 
not  go ;  so,  at  a  sign  from  Madame  Viardot,  the  piano-forte 
was  wheeled  on  the  stage,  when  she  sang  with  electrical  effect 
a  French  romance  and  two  Spanish  airs,  accompanying  her- 
self. When  she  was  at  length  permitted  to  leave  the  theatre, 
a  crowd  of  amateurs  attended  her  carriage  to  the  gates  of  her 
hotel,  amid  a  hurricane  of  vivas.  On  her  way  to  Paris  through 
Grenada,  at  the  close  of  her  tour,  Madame  Viardot  performed 
twice  in  II  Barhiere  in  a  style  of  artistic  perfection,  both  mu- 
sical and  dramatic,  quite  unprecedented  in  that  part  of  the 
world.  She  also  performed  Norma  twice,  a  character  in  which 
she  was  fully  equal  to  her  sister. 

In  October,  1842,  Madame  Viardot  made  her  reappearance 
at  the  Theatre  Italien  as  Arsace,  with  Madame  Grisi  and 
Tamburini.  Pauline  Viardot,  Giulia  Grisi,  and  Fanny  Persiani 
formed  a  trio  of  singers  such  as  had  not  often  been  heard  at 
the  same  theatre,  each  possessing  voice  and  talent  of  the  high- 
est order,  yet  perfectly  distinct.  In  1843  Madame  Viardot 
published  five  songs  and  romances  in  an  album,  entitled  X'  Oi- 
seau  cV  Or.  She  declined  the  offers  made  from  London  that 
year,  and  at  the  close  of  the  Paris  season,  about  Easter,  went 
to  Vienna,  where  her  powers  were  highly  appreciated.  In  Au- 
gust she  was  at  Berlin,  and  Meyerbeer,  who  was  then  writing 
his  ProphUe^  arranged  a  concert  in  order  that  the  king  might 
have  an  opportunity  of  hearing  her.  Madame  Viardot  had  a 
brilliant  success  in  Berlin,  and  aroused  quite  an  Italian  furore 
amonsc  the  staid  citizens.    In  1844  she  was  singing  at  Vienna 


PAULINE   TIAEDOT   GAHCIA.  409 

with  Ronconi,  and  she  fonuecl  one  of  the  crowd  of  distin- 
guished visitors  who  attended  the  Beethoven  fete  at  Bonn  in 
1845. 

After  singing  at  Paris  with  Mesdames  Grisi  and  Persiani, 
the  next  engagement  of  Madame  Viardot  was  at  Berhn,  where 
she  sang  at  the  end  of  1846  and  the  beginning  of  1847.  In 
March  she  took  the  Berlin  critics  by  storm  in  a  German  ver- 
sion of  La  Jaive.  She  was  called  before  the  curtain  at  the 
termination  of  every  act,  and  at  midnight  the  members  of  the 
orchestra  executed  a  serenade  under  her  windows;  indeed,  the 
enthusiasm  with  which  she  was  greeted  jDroved  that  the  man- 
tle of  her  illustrious  sister  had  fallen  on  her. 

She  showed  herself,  also,  to  be  as  amiable  as  she  was  gifted. 
One  evening  she  had  been  announced  as  Alice  in  Robert  le  Di- 
able;  when,  unfortunately,  Mdlle.  Tuezck,  the  Isabella  of  the 
evening,  was  taken  ill.  The  manager  was  in  despair :  there 
was  no  singer  to  substitute  for  her,  and  the  opera  must  be  set 
aside.  The  part  of  Alice  taxed  the  powers  of  the  most  vigor- 
ous singer;  but  Madame  Viardot  smilingly  declared  that,  rath- 
er than  disappoint  the  audience,  she  would  play  both  charac- 
ters !  And  she  actually  ^lid  so,  changing  her  costume  with 
every  change  of  scene,  and  representing  in  one  opera  the  two 
opposite  roles  of  the  princess  and  the  peasant !  The  enthusi- 
asm of  the  audience  was  such  that  she  Avas  vociferously  called 
for  at  the  end  of  every  act,  and  when  the  curtain  dropped,  the 
house  rose  en  masse,  and  greeted  her  with  a  storm  of  applause. 

From  Berlin  she  went  to  Dresden,  where  Robert  Schumann 
heard  her  as  Rosina,  and  pronounced  Rosina  to  be  "  her  finest 
role."  AVhen  Mdlle,  Lind  quitted  the  German  Opera  at  Ber- 
lin, Madame  Viardot  took  her  place,  and  created  an  unparal- 
leled enthusiasm  in  Hamburg,  Dresden,  Frankfort,  Leipzig,  etc. 
Her  repertoire  then  consisted  of  Desdemona,  Cenerentola,  Ro- 
sina, Camilla  (in  GU  Orazi),  Arsace,  Norma,  Xinctta,  Amina, 
Romeo,  Lucia,  Maria  di  Rolian,  Leonora  (in  Za  JTavorita), 
Zerlina,  and  Donna  Anna,  the  Iphigenia  of  Gltick  and  the  Ra- 
chel of  Ilalevy,  the  Alice  and  Valentine  of  Meyerbeer. 

As  Alice,  Madame  Viardot  completely  identified  herself 
with  the  creation  of  the  poet;  and  in  the  character  of  Valen- 
tine she  was  irreproachable.  This  part  was  for  her  what  Me- 
dea was  to  Pasta,  Fidelio  to  Malibran,  or  Norma  to  Giulia 
Grisi.     In  the  severe  and  classic  school  of  sinsjincc  Madame 

S 


410  QUEENS   OF   SONG. 

Viardot  has  no  superior,  perhaiDS  no  equal ;  and  in  the  music 
of  Gliick,  of  Handel,  of  Beethoven,  she  shone  pre-eminently. 
"  The  florid  graces  and  embellishments  of  the  modern  Italian 
school,"  says  one  writer,  "  though  mastered  by  her  with  ease, 
do  not  appear  consonant  to  her  genius.  So  great  an  artiste 
must  necessarily  be  a  perfect  mistress  of  all  styles  of  singing, 
but  her  intellect  evidently  inclines  her  to  the  severer  and  loft- 
ier school." 

In  1848  Madame  Viardot  was  engaged  at  our  Royal  ItaUan 
Opera  by  Mr.  Delafield.  By  that  time  the  great  genius  of 
Madame  Viardot  had  matured,  and  a  volume  might  be  filled 
with  the  criticisms  written  on  her  voice,  her  acting,  her  orig- 
inal conception.  Even  those  judges  ordinarily  most  stern  seem- 
ed to  have  scarcely  any  thing  but  praise  to  offer  to  Madame 
Viardot.  She  was  admitted  to  be,  as  one  able  critic  acknowl- 
edges, "  a  woman  of  genius  peculiar,  inasmuch  as  it  is  univer- 
sal." Never  was  prima  donna  more  fortunate  in  satisfying 
even  the  most  exacting. 

The  announcement  of  her  first  appearance  (May  9)  "created 
an  immense  sensation  in  all  musical  circles."  She  had  to  con- 
tend against  a  combination  of  the  most  unfortunate  circum- 
stances that  ever  surrounded  any  singer.  The  house  was 
crowded  by  those  anxious  to  witness  her  appearance  as  Ami- 
na,  the  Dowager  Countess  of  Essex,  Madame  Grisi  and  Mdlle. 
Alboni  being  among  the  most  eager  expectants.  Despite  her 
nervousness — "  her  trembling  was  aj^parent  to  all  parts  of  the 
house,"  as  one  journal  recorded — her  success  was  undoubted 
from  the  commencement  of  the  Opera.  "  She  proved  herself 
equal  to  Malibran,"  says  a  writer  in  the  3Iusical  Worlds  speak- 
ing of  this  performance;  "there  was  the  same  passionate  fer- 
vor, the  same  absorbing  depth  of  feeling ;  we  heard  the  same 
tones  whose  naturalness  and  pathos  stole  into  our  very  heart 
of  hearts ;  we  saw  the  same  abstraction,  the  same  abandon- 
ment, the  same  rapturous  awakening  to  joy,  to  love,  and  to  de- 
votion. Such  novel  and  extraordinary  passages,  such  daring 
flights  into  the  region  of  fioriture,  together  with  chromatic 
runs  ascending  and  descending,  embracing  the  three  registers 
of  the  soprano,  mezzo  -  soprano,  and  contralto,  we  have  not 
heard  since  the  days  of  Malibran." 

On  her  second  appearance,  being  no  longer  trammeled  by 
the  circumstances  which  had  previously  harassed  her,  Madame 


PAULINE  YIAKDOT   GAECIA.  411 

Viarclot's  triumph  was  complete.  "  Madame  Viardot's  voice 
grows  imconsciously  upon  you,"  observes  oue  critic,  "  until  at 
last  you  are  blind  to  its  imperfections.  The  voice  penetrates 
to  the  heart  by  its  sympathetic  tones,  and  you  forget  every 
thing  in  it  but  its  touching  and  affecting  quality.  You  care  lit- 
tle or  nothing  for  the  mechanism,  or  rather  for  the  weakness 
of  the  organ ;  you  are  no  longer  a  critic,  but  spell-bound  under 
the  hand  of  genius,  moved  by  the  sway  of  the  enthusiasm  that 
comes  from  the  soul — abashed  in  the  presence  of  intellect." 

From  that  time  Madame  Viardot  aj^peared  almost  every 
season  in  London  in  all  the  great  parts  in  which  she  had  dis- 
tinguished herself  on  the  Continent.  Her  most  memorable 
achievement  was  her  performance  in  1849  of  the  character  of 
Fides  in  Le  Prophtte.  This  opera  was  then  a  novelty,  having 
been  recently  produced  at  Paris.  Meyerbeer  had  kept  it  long 
in  his  portfolio,  determined  not  to  bring  it  out  till  Fides  could 
be  represented  by  the  performer  for  whom  it  had  been  ex- 
pressly written.  Madame  Viardot's  appearance  in  it  on  the 
Parisian  boards  had  created  an  immense  sensation,  and  equally 
great  was  the  impression  made  by  her  reappearance  in  it  at 
Covent  Garden.  It  has  since  been  sustained  by  other  perform- 
ers of  the  greatest  eminence,  but  it  has  been  unanimously  ad- 
mitted that  none  have  attained  the  standard  given  by  Yiardot. 

Her  last  season  in  England  was  that  of  1858.  There  was 
an  Italian  Opera  at  Drury  Lane,  for  which  she  was  engaged, 
and  where  she  appeared  in  several  of  her  jDrincii^al  parts.  In 
this,  as  in  previous  years,  she  sang  at  the  leading  concerts  in 
the  metropolis,  and  at  the  great  provincial  festivals.  Her  last 
appearances  in  England  were  at  the  Diruiingham  festival  of 
the  above  year. 

From  England  she  went  to  Poland.  In  December,  Prince 
Gortschakoff  entertained  in  his  palace  all  the  rank  and  fashion 
of  Warsaw  with  a  concert,  at  which  she  was  the  chief  attrac- 
tion. She  sang  the  grand  air  from  L' Itallana,  two  pieces 
from  Le  ProphUc,  and  some  Russian  airs.  The  performance 
of  ie  ProphUc  being  prohibited  at  Warsaw,  Madame  Viardot 
made  her  debut  two  days  after  in  Korma ;  she  next  appeared 
in  II  Parhiere,  when  her  rccci^tion  was,  if  possible,  even  more 
brilliant.  After  the  performance.  Prince  Cautacuzene  was  sent 
by  Prince  Gortschakoff  to  invite  Madame  Viardot  to  tea  in 
the  governor  general's  house,  where  she  was  met  by  an  assem- 


412  QUEENS    OF   SONG. 

bly  of  the  elite  of  the  court  and  the  nobility.  The  January  and 
February  of  the  following  year  found  Madame  Viardot  at  Ber- 
lin. Her  success,  it  is  unnecessary  to  add,  was  immense :  the 
theatre  was  always  crowded  at  double  prices.  In  March,  1861, 
this  incomparable  artiste  created  a  great  sensation  by  singing 
in  a  selection  from  Glilck's  Alceste,  at  the  Paris  Conservatoire, 
where  she  had  not  sung  for  many  years.  She  appeared  again 
in  Paris  in  1862. 

Madame  Viardot,  in  private  life,  is  loved  and  esteemed  for 
her  pure  and  cultivated  mind,  her  amiable  temper,  the  suavity 
of  her  manner,  and  her  high  principles,  as  she  has  been  admired 
by  the  public  for  her  genius,  her  voice,  and  her  dramatic  pow- 
er, and  respected  for  her  punctuality  and  willingness  to  oblige. 
She  had  never  ceased  to  be  a  favorite,  but  always  retained  her 
supremacy,  spite  of  the  most  attractive  novelty  or  the  most 
brilliant  rivalry. 


I 


FANXY  PEKSIANI.  413 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 

FANNY   PEESIANI. 

Nicholas  Tacchinaedi,  who  was  the  great  star  of  the  Ode- 
on  under  the  Emph-e,  was  one  of  the  most  admired  tenors  of 
his  day.  He  was  not  by  nature  formed  for  a  stage  hero,  being 
short,  with  a  large  head  sunk  in  his  shoulders,  and  a  repulsive 
face ;  but  he  had  an  exquisite  voice  and  irreproachable  taste, 
and  was  as  capricious  as  he  was  ugly.  Nor  did  his  demeanor 
on  the  stage  lessen  the  unfavorable  impression  of  his  person ; 
for  he  would  march  down  to  the  orchestra  with  his  hat  in  one 
hand,  and  his  cane  in  the  other,  and  then,  without  the  least 
gesture  or  action,  sing  his  song,  and  walk  off  again.  Being 
perfectly  conscious  that  his  personal  defects  operated  against 
him  in  the  estimation  of  those  who  were  not  familiar  with  his 
beautiful  voice,  he  would  beg  those  who  wrote  for  him  to  give 
him  parts  which  permitted  him  to  sing  at  the  side-scenes  be- 
fore entci'ing  on  the  stage,  that  thus  he  might  be  heard  before 
being  seen.  This  expedient  was  not  always  easy  to  manage, 
however,  so  he  invented  another  stratagem  for  concealing 
from  the  spectators  some  portion  of  his  unfortunate  figure;  he 
would  come  on  the  stage  standing  in  a  triumphal  car,  looking 
even  then  a  victor  whose  aspect  terribly  belied  his  supposed 
deeds.  At  his  first  appearance  on  the  boards  of  the  Odcon,  he 
was  saluted  with  the  most  insulting  outburst  of  laughter  and 
smothered  ejaculations  of  "  Why,  he's  a  hunchback !"  Being 
accustomed  to  this  kind  of  greeting,  Tacchinardi  tranquilly 
walked  to  the  foot-lights  and  bowed.  "  Gentlemen,"  he  said, 
addressing  the  pit, "  I  am  not  here  to  exhibit  my  person,  but 
to  sing.  Have  the  goodness  to  hear  me."  They  did  hear  him, 
and  when  he  ceased,  the  theatre  rang  with  plaudits :  there  was 
no  more  laughter.  His  personal  disadvantages  were  redeem- 
ed by  one  of  the  finest  and  purest  tenor  voices  ever  given  by 
Nature  and  refined  by  Art,  by  his  extraordinary  intelligence, 
by  an  admirable  method  of  singing,  an  exquisite  taste  in  fiori- 
ture,  and  a  marvelous  facility  of  execution. 


414  QUEENS    OF   SONG. 

After  the  events  of  1815  Tacchinardi  left  France  and  re- 
turned to  his  native  Italy ;  and  when  at  Rome  he  had  a  sec- 
ond daughter,  Fanny,  born  October  4,  1818.  She  was  pas- 
sionately fond  of  music ;  and  while  yet  a  child,  her  father  gave 
her  lessons.  At  nine  she  could  play  on  the  piano,  and  sing 
with  grace,  though  iifa  thin,  uncertain  voice,  her  father's  ari- 
ettas and  duettini,  with  her  elder  sister,  Elisa,  who  was  an  ex- 
cellent pianist,  and  a  good  musician  and  composer.  At  eleven 
Fanny  performed,  as  a  childish  amateur,  the  part  of  i:»rima  don- 
na at  a  little  theatre  which  her  father  had  fitted  wp  in  his  coun- 
try house  near  Florence  (his  native  city)  for  the  use  of  his  jsu- 
pils.  Despite  her  decided  talent  and  predilection  for  the  stage, 
however,  her  father  was  averse  to  her  adoptiug  it  as  a  profes- 
sion. 

But  she  sang  in  public  when  fourteen,  with  much  success,  at 
the  concerts  of  amateurs  and  of  artists,  and  at  some  theatrical 
representations  for  the  benefit  of  her  father;  and  in  1828  and 
1829  she  sang  many  times  in  the  concerts  which  were  given 
during  Lent  at  the  court  of  the  Grand-Duke  of  Tuscany,  where 
Tacchinardi  had  been  chanteur  du  chambre  since  1822.  Na- 
ture had  given  to  Fanny  a  voice  of  great  extent,  but  wanting, 
in  some  parts,  flexibility,  sweetness,  and  power ;  defects  Avhich 
subsequent  hard  study  and  untiring  efibrts  only  to  a  certain 
degree  remedied.  

In  1830  Fanny  Tacchinardi  married  Joseph  Persian!,  a  com^ 
poser  of  several  operas  of  more  or  less  merit,  and  resided  with 
him  in  her  father's  house,  far  from  the  musical  world.  But  she 
was,  like  Mara  and  our  own  Billington,  like  Malibran,  Pauline 
Viardot,  and  many  others,  a  musicienne  de  race^  and,  as  such, 
her  gifts  could  not  be  kept  in  obscurity. 

A  French  amateur,  a  M.  Fournier,  a  rich  merchant  estab- 
lished at  Leghorn,  had  composed  an  opera  entitled  Francesca 
di  Himini,  the  subject  being  taken  from  the  tragedy  of  Pelli- 
co.  The  Frenchman  was  one  of  those  musical  enthusiasts  who 
are  ready  to  do  any  thing  if  only  their  pieces  are  publicly  rep- 
resented, and  he  was  prepared  to  pay  for  every  thing  —  the 
scenery,  the  singers,  the  musicians.  The  first  vocalists  were 
accordingly  engaged,  Madame  Pisaroni  and  Rosalbina  Cara- 
dori  being  the  contralto  and  soprano.  On  the  day  of  rehearsal, 
June,  1832,  all  the  singers  responded  to  the  call  with  the  ex- 
ception of  Madame  Caradori,  Avho  was  detained  at  Florence  by 


FANNY   PEKSIANI. 


415 


the  public.  M.  Fonrnier  was  in  despair,  and  the  manager  in 
a  fidget.  What  was  to  be  done  ?  Suddenly  some  one  recol- 
lected the  distinguished  dilettante,  Madame  Persiani,  who  re- 
sided some  leagues  from  Leghorn,  and  might  perhaps  be  in- 
duced to  undertake  the  part  of  the  heroine  on  this  occasion. 
Accordingly,  a  dei^utation  of  the  friends  of  M.  Fournicr,  among 
whom  were  some  friends  of  Tacchinardi,  came  to  represent  the 
case  of  the  poor  composer  in  want  of  a  soprano  singer,  and  im- 
plored her  aid.  After  some  hesitation,  and,.having  obtained^ 
the  consent  of  her  husband  and  father,  Madame  Persiani  signed 
~wTth-ar4rrembling  hand  the  engagement  Avhich  was  offered  her, 
and  made  her  debut  in  the  Franeesca  di  IHrnini  of  the  mer- 
chant-musician . 

It  must  be  confessed  that  her  debut  was  not  brilliant :  it  did 
not  even  presage  future  successes.  Having  commenced  her  ca- 
-feer,  however,  she  was  too  valorous  to  relinquish  it.  Passing 
to  the  theatre  of  Milan,  she  there  laid  the  foundation  of  her 
renown,  Avhich  rose  rapidly  at  Florence,  where  she  sang  with 
Duprez  and  Porto.  Donizetti,  who  was  then  in  that  city, 
wrote  for  these  three  artistes  his  Rosmonila  cV Inghilterra. 

Madame  Persiani  was  next  engaged  at  Vienna,  Avhere  the 
impression  which  she  made  was  all  the  more  honorable  to  her, 
as  the  great  theatre  of  that  capital  is  the  rendezvous  of  the 
elite  of  Viennese  society.  She  was  afterward  engaged  at  Pa- 
dua, and  at  Venice,  where,  in  1833,  she  played  chiefly  in  Bo- 
rneo e  Giulietta.,  II  Plrata.,  La  Gazza  Ladra^  and  L^Elisir 
d^Amorc.  Madame  Pasta  was  singing  here,  and  Madame 
Persiani,  who  performed  Avith  her  in  Tancredi  and  L^JElisir 
d' Amove,  did  not  hesitate  to  enter  into  competition  with  this 
illustrious  rival.  The  Venetians  were  charmed  with  the  blonde 
Persiani,  and  unanimously  designated  her  "la  petite  Pasta," 
though  in  her  talent  she  did  not  resemble  the  great  tragedian 
in  the  remotest  degree.  At  Milan,  where  the  echo  of  her  Ve- 
netian successes  had  preceded  her,  she  appeared  in  Beatrice  di 
Tenda  and  La  Sonnamhida.  In  the  autumn  of  the  same  year 
(1833)  she  left  for  Rome,  and  during  her  stay  in  that  city,  two 
operas,  Mlsantro2)ia  e  Pentimcnto  and  I Promessi  /Sposi,  Avere 
written  for  her.  She  also  performed  Avith  Ronconi  in  II  Pl- 
rata. At  Pisa,  in  Otello,  she  met  Avith  equal  admiration,  and 
she  sang  at  the  Teatro  Carlo  Felice,  at  Genoa,  during  the  Car- 
nival. 


416  QUEENS   OP   SONG. 

The  next  year  she  was  at  the  San  Carlo,  at  Naples,  with 
Duprez,  Coselli,  and  Lablache.  Donizetti,  who  was  charmed 
with  her  voice,  resolved  to  write  another  opera  for  her ;  and 
as  with  him  there  was  not  much  delay  between  conceiving  an 
idea  and  carrying  it  into  execution,  being  furnished  with  an 
interesting  libretto,  the  last  act  of  which  he  wrote  himself,  he 
set  to  work,  and  in  the  space  of  six  weeks  produced  one  of  the 
most  beautiful  operas  he  had  ever  written — Lucia  di  Lam- 
mermoor.  Duprez,  then  in  the  zenith  of  his  power,  was  a 
singer  of  the  first  order,  and  it  is  thought  that  the  large  and 
severe  style  of  this  vocalist  exerted  a  favorable  influence  on 
the  inspiration  of  the  composer,  who  wrote  for  him  the  char- 
acter of  Edgardo.  As  the  gentle  Lucy,  Madame  Persiani  was 
soft,  pathetic,  sentimental,  and  imj^assioned.  She  performed 
with  ease,  intelligence,  and  expression.  This  part  always  re- 
mained her  favorite. 
J  In  appearance  Madame  Persiani  was  small  and  thin,  with  a 
'  face  somewhat  long  and  coloi'less,  and  though  interesting  and 
pleasing,  on  the  stage  she  looked  older  than  she  really  was. 
Her  eyes  were  soft  and  dreamy,  her  smile  piquant,  her  hair  ex- 
quisitely fair  and  unusually  long.  Her  manner  was  lady-like 
and  unassuming,  and  her  actions  were  graceful.  "  Never  was 
there  woman  less  vulgar,  in  physiognomy  or  in  manner,  than 
V  she,"  says  Mr.  Chorley,  describing  Madame  Persiani;  "but 
y^^vjiever  was  there  one  whose  appearance  on  the  stage  was  less 
/  distinguished.  She  was  not  precisely  insignificant  to  see,  so 
much  as  pale,  plain,  and  anxious.  She  gave  the  imjiression  of 
one  who  had  left  sorrow  or  sickness  at  home,  and  who  there- 
fore (unlike  those  wonderful  deluders,  the  French  actresses, 
who,  because  they  will  not  be  ugly,  rarely  looJc  so)  had  re- 
signed every  question  of  personal  attraction  as  a  hopeless  one. 
She  was  singularly  tasteless  in  her  dress.  Her  one  good  jjoint 
was  her  hair,  which  was  splendidly  profuse,  and  of  an  agreea- 
ble color." 

— -  As  a  vocalist,  it  was  agreed  that  her  singing  had  the  volu^ 
bility,  ease,  and  musical  sweetness  of  a  bird :  her  execution 
was  remarkable  for  velocity.  Her  voice  was  rather  thin,  but 
its  tones  were  clear  as  a  silver  bell,  brilliant  and  sparkling  as 
a  diamond :  it  embraced  a  range  of  two  octaves  and  a  half  (or 
about  eighteen  notes,  from  B  to  F  in  alt),  the  highest  and  low- 
est notes  of  which  she  touched  with  equal  ease  and  sweetness. 


FANNY   PERSIAN!.  417 

She  had  thus  an  organ  of  tlie  most  extensive  compass  known 
in  the  register  of  the  true  soprano.  Her  faciUty  was  extraor- 
dinary ;  her  voice  was  implicitly  under  her  command,  and  ca- 
pable not  only  of  executing  the  greatest  difficulties,  but  also 
of  obeying  the  most  daring  caprices — scales,  shakes,  trills,  di- 
visions, fioriture  the  most  dazzling  and  inconceivable.     She 

ed  this  command  by  indefatigable  labor.     Study_  / 
enabled  her  fo~execute  Avith  fluency  and  correctness  the  ( 
chromatic  scales   ascending  and  descending,  and  it  was  by 
sheer  hard  practice  that  she  learned  to  swell  and  diminish  her 
accents ;  to  emit  tones  full,  large,  and  free  from  nasal  or  gut- 
tural sounds,  to  manage  her  respiration  skillfully,  and  to  seize 
the  delicate  shades  of  vocalization.     In  fioriture  and  vocal  ef- 
fects her  taste  was  faultless ;  and  she  had  an  agreeable  manner 
of  uniting  her  tones  by  the  happiest  transitions,  and  diminish- 
^  Avith  insensible  gradations.     She  excelled  in  the  effects  of^ 
rocal  embroidery,  and  her  passion  for  ornamentation  tempted 
her  to  disregard  the  dramatic  situation  in  order  to  give  Avay 
to  a  torrent  of  splendid  fioriture,  which  dazzled  the  audience 
without  always  satisfying  them. 

She  excelled  in  Lucia,  Amina,  Ninetta,  and  Zerlina :  charac- 
ters which  require  placidity,  feminine  grace,  softness,  and  ap- 
peal to  the  sympathies  of  the  spectators,  were  best  adapted  to 
her  style  and  talent.  That  she  was  not  incapable  of  tragic 
emotion,  however,  her  mad  scene  in  Lucia  di  Lammermoor 
attested.  "It  is  not  only  the  nature  of  her  voice  Avhich  limits 
her,"  remarks  Escudier,  "  it  is  also  the  expression  of  her  act- 
ing— we  liad  almost  said  the  ensemble  of  her  physical  organi- 
zation. She  knows  her  own  powers  perfectly.  She  is  not 
ambitious,  she  knows  exactly  what  will  suit  her,  and  is  aware 
precisely  of  the  nature  of  her  talent."  Her  style  Avas  all  her 
own — graceful  and  gentle.  As  Zerlina,  she  Avas  the  bewitch- 
ing Spanish  girl,  in  all  her  native  beauty  and  picturesquencss ; 
her  innovations  Avere  rare ;  every  touch  was  in  the  finest  taste ; 
and  since  the  days  of  Fodor,  no  one  invested  the  character  of 
Zerlina  Avith  so  much  truth  and  grace  as  Madame  Persian i. 
Yet  she  shone  less  in  Mozart's  music  than  in  the  compositions 
of  other  masters ;  her  light  and  brilliant  voice,  her  airy  style, 
iittiner  her  more  for  the  modern  Italian  than  the  severe  Ger- 
man  school.  As  an  actress,  Madame  Persiani,  although  not 
very  animated,  Avas  natural,  often  touching.  She  possessed 
27  S2 


418  QUEENS    OF   SONG. 

much  versatility,  and  in  comedy  was  easy  and  elegant,  her  best 
parts  being  Rosina  and  Adina.  She  belonged  to  the  same 
school  as  Sontag. 

On  the  occasion  of  her  second  visit  to  Naples  in  1835,  an 
incident  occurred  which  afforded  Madame  Persian!  deej)  grat- 
ification. During  the  representation  of  Lucia,  she  was  one 
evening  changing  her  costume  betvv-een  tho  acts,  when  a  lady 
entered  her  dressing-room,  and"  after  a  few  general  compli- 
ments on  her  singing,  took  in  her  hands  the  long  fair  tresses 
which  floated  in  wild  profusion  over  the  shoulders  of  the  can- 
tatrice,  asking  if  they  were  really  her  own.  Madame  Persiani 
laughingly  invited  her  to  satisfy  herself  on  this  point,  when  the 
visitor  said,  with  a  smile,  "  Allow  me,  signora,  since  I  have  no 
wreath  of  flowers  to  offer  you,  to  twine  you  one  with  your 
own  beautiful  tresses ; "  and  she  did  so.  Madame  Persiani's 
heart  beat  with  pride  and  joy,  for  it  was  Malibran  who  sjiokc. 

From  Naples  she  went  to  Genoa.  Here  Severini  heard  her 
and  offered  her  an  engagement  for  the  Theatre  Italien.  She 
accepted  it  provisionally,  being  unable  to  go  immediately  to 
France  in  consequence  of  her  numerous  engagements. 

In  the  same  year,  coming  from  Naples  to  Leghorn  to  fulfill 
an  engagement  at  Florence,  she  fell  seriously  ill  during  the 
voyage,  in  consequence  of  a  dreadful  storm  which  broke  over 
the  vessel.  On  her  arrival  in  the  Tuscan  capital,  she  present- 
ed herself  weak  and  exhausted  before  the  impresario,  who  nev- 
ertheless insisted  on  enforcing  the  terms  of  her  engagement, 
and  on  compelling  her  to  appear  in  I Puritani.  She  remon- 
strated in  vain,  and  went  on  in  a  nearly  dying  condition,  hop- 
ing for  the  indulgence  of  the  audience.  Scarcely  had  the  first 
few  notes  escaped  her  quivering  lips  when  she  was  borne  down 
by  a  storm  of  angry  hisses.  But,  so  far  from  crushing  Ma- 
dame Persiani,  this  unexpected  salutation  gave  her  an  impetus, 
and  seeing  the  audience  thus  pitiless,  she  continued  her  part 
with  the  most  imperturbable  coolness,  careless  whether  they 
were  pleased  or  not.  A  few  weeks  later,  when  she  had  recov- 
ered her  strength  and  voice,  the  popular  admiration  became 
boundless;  but  she  was  as  insensible  to  praises  as  she  had 
been  to  reproaches :  she  replied  to  the  enthusiasm  by  a  dis- 
dainful, icy  smile,  and  at  the  expiration  of  her  engagement  left 
Florence  never  to  return. 

At  Vienna  she  was  named  chamber-singer  to  the  emperor. 


FANNY    PERSIANI.  419 

At  Venice,  in  1837,  the  evcv-industrious  Donizetti,  who  "wrote 
more  oj^cras  than  he  had  lived  years,  composed  for  her  and 
Roncoui  his  Pia  Tolomei,  which  was  performed  at  the  Apollo 
Theatre. 

Madame  Persiani  was  at  length  free  to  undertake  her  Pa- 
risian engagement.  As  she  approached  the  French  capital,  her 
fears  grew  almost  insupportable ;  and  when  at  last  the  day  was 
fixed  irrevocably  for  her  debut,  an  involuntary  shivering  seized 
her,  and  her  limbs  bent  under  her  as  she  stepped  on  the  stage, 
November  7, 1837.  The  opera  wasia  Sonnamhula^  and  Ru- 
bini,  Tamburini,  and  Mdlle.  Assandri  were  the  performers  with 
the  debutante.  The  aristocratic  audience  of  the  theatre  was 
not  tardy  in  sanctioning  with  its  high  approval  the  great  re- 
nown which  had  preceded  the  candidate  for  their  favor ;  but 
her  debut  was  not  so  brilliant  as  might  have  been  expected. 
Timidity,  perhaps,  was  the  cause  that  obscured  the  beauty  of 
her  talent,  and  until  she  appeared  in  II  JSIatrimonio  Segreto^ 
she  was  not  rightly  apjircciated.  "Since  the  retirement  of 
Madame  Fodor,"  said  one  critic,  "  the  part  of  Carolina  has 
never  been  comprehended,  sung,  and  rendered  with  the  same 
mixtin-e  of  sweetness  and  power  J'  Rubini,  Tamburini,  IMdlle. 
Assandri,  and  Madame  Albertazzi  took  the  other  characters. 
In  December  she  appeared  as  Lucia,  and  from  this  time  she 
was  the  idol  of  the  Parisian  public,  who  placed  her  above  even 
Grisi  herself,  for  the  same  reason  that  they  placed  Duprez 
above  all  tenors,  even  above  Nourrit. 

In  1838  Madame  Persiani  appeared  in  London  at  Her  Maj- 
esty's Theatre  inX«  Sowuanhida.  "It  is  no  small  risk  to  any 
vocalist  to  follow  Malibran  and  Grisi  in  a  part  which  they  both 
played  so  well,"  observed  one  critic,  "  and  it  is  no  small  com- 
pliment to  Persiani  to  say  that  she  succeeded  in  it."  She  next 
appeared  as  Lucia  Avith  Rnbini,  Tamburini,  etc.  By  the  close 
of  the  season  she  had  established  herself  as  an  undoubted  fa- 
vorite, and  she  continued,  with  little  intermission,  to  sing  al- 
ternately in  London  and  Paris  for  many  years.  In  1839  she 
performed  at  Her  Majesty's  Theatre  with  Grisi,  Lablache, 
Tamburini,  and  Mario. 

In  1841,  after  the  close  of  the  London  season,  she  sang  for 
twelve  nights  at  Brussels,  with  Rnbini ;  and  it  was  said  that 
the  two  artistes  received  each  £100  nightly.  In  October  they 
were  at  Wiesbaden,  and  during  the  tour  they  had  undertaken, 


420  QUEENS    OF   SONG. 

they  were  every  -where  received  with  the  warmest  acclama- 
tions; but  at  Wiesbaden  the  "enthusiasm"  was  greatest. 
Princes,  ministers,  and  diplomats  crowded  round  M.  Metter- 
nich,  who  had  come  from  his  chateau  of  Johannisberg,  to  be 
present  at  the  concert  given  by  the  two  eminent  vocalists; 
and  at  the  conclusion  of  the  performance,  the  prince  took  Ru- 
bini  by  the  arm,  and  walked  up  and  down  the  salon  with  him 
for  some  time.  They  had  become  acquainted  at  Vienna.  "My 
dear  Rubini,"  said  Metternich,  "  it  is  impossible  that  you  can 
come  so  near  Johannisberg  without  paying  me  a  visit  there. 
I  hope  you  and  your  friends  will  come  and  dine  with  me  to- 
morrow." The  following  day,  therefore,  Rubini,  Madame  Per- 
siani,  etc.,  went  to  the  chateau,  so  celebrated  for  the  produce 
of  its  vineyards,  Avhere  M.  Metternich  and  his  princess  did  the 
honors  with  the  utmost  affability  and  cordiality.  After  din- 
ner, Rubini,  unasked,  sang  two  of  his  most  admired  airs ;  and 
the  prince,  to  testify  his  gratification,  offered  him  a  basket  of 
Johannisberg,  "to  drink  my  health,"  he  laughingly  said,  "when 
you  reach  your  chateau  of  Bergamo."  Rubini  accepted  the 
friendly  offering,  and  begged  permission  to  bring  Madame  Ru- 
bini, before  quitting  the  north  of  Europe,  to  visit  the  fine  cha- 
teau. Metternich  immediately  summoned  his  major-domo,  and 
said  to  him,  "  Remember  that  if  ever  M.  Rubini  visits  Johan- 
nisberg during  my  absence,  he  is  to  be  received  as  if  he  were 
its  master.  You  will  place  the  whole  of  the  chateau  at  his 
disposal  so  long  as  he  may  please  to  remain."  "And  the  cel- 
lar also  ?  "  asked  Rubini.  "  The  cellar  also,"  added  the  prince, 
smiling :  "  the  cellar  at  discretion." 

In  1842  Madame  Persian!  was  again  in  London.  In  Paris 
she  was  more  admired  every  day.  This  year,  being  in  Vienna, 
Donizetti  wrote  for  her  his  pathetic  oj^era  o^  Linda  di  Cha- 
moicni.  As  the  unfortunate  Linda,  she  almost  equaled  her 
performance  of  Lucia,  and  displayed  great  taste  and  feeling. 
She  did  not  come  to  England  in  1845,  but  in  1846  she  was 
warmly  welcomed.  It  was  observed  that  her  voice  was  bril- 
liant and  clear  as  ever,  and  that  she  had,  if  possible,  improved 
in  the  mechanical  resources  of  her  art. 

In  1847,  Covent  Garden  Theatre,  converted  into  a  superb, 
spacious  opera-house,  was  ojiened  i;nder  the  title  of  the  Royal 
Italian  Opera ;  and  it  was  understood  that  several  of  the  i^rin- 
cipal  performers  had  invested  large  funds  in  the  undertaking. 


/ 


FANNY   PERSIANI.  421 

which  was  directed  by  Signor  Persiani.  It  was,  according  to 
the  announcement  of  the  proprietors,  "  established  for  the  pur- 
pose of  rendering  a  more  perfect  performance  of  lyric  drama 
than  hitherto  in  this  country."  The  principal  members  of  the 
company,  who  had  quitted  Her  Majesty's  Theatre,  wei*e  Mes- 
dames  Grisi  and  Persiani,  and  a  young  singer  named  Mdlle. 
Alboni,  who  had  gained  a  reputation  in  Italy ;  Signori  Mario 
and  Tamburini,  Salvi  and  Ronconi,  Rovere  and  Marini.  The 
orchestra,  which  was  under  the  superintendence  of  Signor  Cos- 
ta (formerly  chef  d'orchestre  of  Her  Majesty's  Theatre),  was 
of  extraordinary  strength  and  excellence.  The  chorus  was 
numerous  and  efficient,  while  the  costumes,  scenery  and  dec- 
ovations  were  magnificent. 

In  October  Madame  Persiani  reappeared  at  the  Italiens  with 
Tagliafico  and  Gardoni;  but  she  vanished  from  the  stage  at 
Paris,  terrified,  like  many  other  songstresses,  by  the  thunders 
of  the  Revolution,  and  accepted  an  engagement  at  a  salary  of 
£040  for  the  season  of  1848,  from  Mr.  Delafield,  who  was  just 
-embarking  on  his  rash  speculation  as  an  operatic  manager.  In 
1849  she  sang  again,  receiving  £500,  when  she  performed  Zer- 
lina  and  other  favorite  characters.  After  this  year  Madame 
Persiani  took  leave  of  the  London  stage,  altho^igh  she  contin- 
ued to  sing  at  concerts. 

In  March,  1850,  Madame  Persiani,  with  Tamburini  and  Gar- 
doni, signed  an  engagement  to  appear  at  the  Theatres  Royal 
of  Amsterdam  and  the  Plague.  She  was  subsequently  engaged 
with  Mario  and  Tamburini  for  the  Imperial  Theatre  of  St.  Pe- 
tersburg, whore  she  appeared  in  La  Sonnamhula^  II  Barhkrc^ 
etc.,  and  in  II  Fantasma^  an  opera  by  her  husband.  She  was 
greatly  admired  in  this  capital ;  and  the  Czar  Nicholas,  Avith 
the  members  of  the  imperial  family,  gave  her  the  most  grati- 
fying proofs  of  approbation.  Quitting  St.  Petersburg,  she  went 
to  Moscow,  where  she  gave  several  representations  and  con- 
certs. She  afterward  visited  Prussia,  Germany,  Saxony,  Ecl- 
giura,  Holland,  Spain,  Ireland,  Scotland,  and  the  principal  cit- 
ies of  France.  In  1854  she  was  engaged  to  sing  for  fifteen 
nights  at  the  Teatro  Communale  of  Bologna;  she  also  sang  at 
concerts  in  London  the  same  year,  and  in  185G  she  was  sing- 
ing at  Bordeaux.  In  1858  she  accepted,  after  some  hesitation, 
an  engagement  from  Mr.  E.  T.  Smith  to  sing  in  opera  at  Drury 
Lane,  and  appeared  in  I  Puritanic  Bon  Pasquale^  Linda  di 


422  QUEENS    OF   SONG. 

Chcmiouniy  and  Do7i  Giovanni.  She  was  greeted  with  the 
old  familiar  plaudits.  One  of  her  pupils,  Miss  Laura  Baxter, 
also  appeared.  In  December,  1858,  Madame  Persiaui  fixed 
her  residence  at  Paris,  with  the  view  of  devoting  herself  en- 
tirely to  musical  tuition.     There  she  has  since  remained. 

In  1859,  when  Mario  was  about  to  take  his  benefit  (March 
14)  at  the  Theatre  Italien,  Calzado,  director,  entreated  Madame 
Persiani  to  undertake  the  character  of  Zerlina.     The  part  of 
Don  Giovanni  having  been  transposed  for  Mario,  the  part  of 
Zerlina  was  also  necessarily  altered,  especially  the  passages 
which  she  has  to  sing  with  the  Don.     Madame  Persiani  at 
first  refused  to  enter  on  so  daring  a  task  as  performing  this 
version  of  Zerlina  almost  without  a  rehearsal ;  but  Signer  Ma- 
rio pleaded  his  own  cause  so  eloquently  that  she  yielded.    She 
was  anxious,  in  fact,  to  pay  her  debt  of  gratitude  to  the  Paris- 
ians, whose  idol  she  had  been,  and  she  felt  that  she  could  not 
do  so  more  gracefully  than  by  appearing  for  the  last  time  in    / 
her  life  in  a  part  with  which  her  name  was  so  pleasantly  asso-  / 
ciated.     "My  career,"  she  said,  "began  almost  in  lisping  the-f' 
divine  music  of  Don  Giovanni;  it  will  be  appropriately  closed, 
by  the  interpretation  of  this  chef-d'a3uvre  of  the  master  of 
masters,  the  immortal  Mozart,"    Her  voice  was  found  to  be 
singularly  fresh  and  clear,  her  talent  had  lost  nothing  of  its 
piquancy,  and  she  was  applauded  to  the  echo. 

On  leaving  the  theatre  after  this  performance  she  learned 
the  death  of  her  father,  the  celebrated  Tacchinardi. 


CATHAKINE   HATES.  423 


CHAPTER  XXXn. 

CATHAEINE    HAYES. 

The  shades  of  a  summer  evening  were  beginning  to  gather 
over  the  city  of  Limerick,  so  famed  for  its  gloves,  its  races, 
and  its  lasses;  parties  of  pleasm'e  were  floating  down  the 
Shannon,  passing,  one  after  another,  the  pictm'esque  gardens 
attached  to  the  mansion  of  the  Earl  of  Limerick  and  to  the 
See  house  of  the  bishop,  which  stretched  to  the  river's  edge, 
when  the  silence  of  evening  was  broken  by  a  delicious  child- 
ish warbling,  as  if  some  little  Loreley  had  emerged  from  the 
stream.  Song  after  song  was  poured  forth  in  quick  succes- 
sion, and  more  than  one  boat  crept  under  the  shadow  of  the 
trees,  that  its  occupants  might  listen  to  the  unseen  songstress, 
who,  hidden  in  a  woodbine  bower,  unconscious  of  the  audience 
she  had  attracted,  continued  singing  till,  at  the  conclusion  of 
the  Lass  of  Goici'ie,  she  broke  into  a  prolonged  and  thrilling 
shake.  The  listeners,  carried  away  by  their  admiration,  made 
the  welkin  ring  with  a  rapturous  shout  of  applause,  startling 
the  timid  child,  who  fled,  half  blushing,  half  frightened. 

The  singer  was  little  Catharine  Hayes,  then  some  ten  years 
of  age,  a  native  of  Limerick,  born  in  1828  at  No.  4  Patrick 
Street.  A  gentle,  reserved  girl,  delicate  and  quiet,  shrinking 
from  the  rough  sports  of  other  children,  her  great  enjoyment 
was  to  sit  alone  in  the  woodbine  arbor  at  the  end  of  the  gar- 
den of  the  Earl  of  Limerick  (an  aged  female  relative  being  in 
the  service  of  that  nobleman),  and  here  she  would  warble  all 
the  Irish  ballads  she  caught  up  from  time  to  time.  Among 
the  listeners  on  tliis  particular  evening  Avas  the  Hon.  and 
Right  Rev.  Edmoud  Knox,  Bishop  of  Limerick,  Avhose  cor- 
rect taste  and  refined  judgment  enabled  him  to  immediately 
discern  the  budding  talent  of  the  little  songstress.  From  that 
evening  her  open-air  practice  ceased,  and  little  Kitty  found 
herself  a  musical  wonder.  She  Avas  invited  to  the  See  house, 
and  became  the  star  of  a  series  of  musical  reunions  given  by 
her  new  patron,  and  directed  by  the  Messrs.  Rogers,  musicians 


424  QUEENS    OF   SOXG. 

of  much  promise,  one  of  whom  afterward  became  organist  of 
Limerick  Cathedral. 

Catharine  was  also  noticed  by  a  lady  of  the  city,  a  highly 
accomplished  amateur,  who,  pleased  with  the  youthful  talent 
of  the  child,  invited  her  to  her  house,  and  voluntarily  taught 
her  to  sing  simple  ballads,  being  amply  repaid  by  the  quick 
intelligence  of  her  little  pupil.  One  day  the  lady  asked  her 
to  execute  a  shake ;  the  blushing  girl  modestly  shrank  from 
the  difficulty,  although  urged  most  pressingly;  her  ambition 
being  awakened,  however,  she  determined  to  try  if  she  really 
could  manage  it,  and,  returning  to  the  solitude  of  her  wood- 
bine bower,  she  began  to  imitate  the  shake  played  for  her  by 
her  friend,  and  discovered,  with  a  thrill  of  joy,  that  she  could 
absolutely  give  it  in  perfection.  Timid,  and  unable  to  quite 
credit  that  she  was  indeed  gifted  with  this  valuable  grace, 
Catharine  did  not  acknowledge  that  she  had  achieved  the  dif- 
ficulty, but  a  few  days  after,  placing  herself  at  the  piano  be- 
side her  friend,  she  lost  her  timidity  completely  on  the  ter- 
mination of  a  ballad,  and  broke  into  a  shake  so  brilliant,  so 
ringing,  so  finished,  that  her  hearer  was  astonished,  and  ut- 
tered an  exclamation  of  delight,  which  j^enetrated  to  the  heart 
of  Catharine :  amid  all  the  triumphs  of  her  professional  career, 
the  "surprise,  aifection,  and  gladness"  with  which  her  shake 
on  this  occasion  was  greeted  by  her  friend,  was  never  efiaced 
from  her  mind.  It  was  from  this  lady  that  Miss  Hayes  gained 
the  first  elementary  knowledge  of  music. 

The  bishop,  pleased  at  the  rapid  progress  of  his  protegee, 
and  anxious  to  give  her  an  opportunity  of  making  her  talents 
available  for  her  suj^port,  consulted  with  some  friends  in  Lim- 
erick, who  concurred  in  advising  him  to  place  Catharine  with 
some  eminent  musical  professor ;  and  her  mother  being  unable 
to  defray  the  expenses,  a  subscription  was  raised,  and  a  large 
sum  soon  collected.  Signer  Antonio  Sapio  was  selected  as  the 
master  for  Miss  Hayes.  The  bishop  accordingly  wrote  to  him, 
and  the  little  Catharine,  bidding  adieu  to  her  mother  and  sis- 
ter Henrietta,  went  to  Dublin,  and  took  up  her  residence  with 
Signer  Sapio,  April  1,  1S39. 

Her  voice  was  then  a  soprano,  with  a  full,  clear,  silvery 
tone ;  her  natural  taste  was  pure  and  refined,  but  her  knowl- 
edge of  music  was  very  limited.  She  was  earnest,  however, 
and  eagerly  applied  to  study  with  the  view  of  perfecting  her- 


CATHARINE   HATES.  425 

self  as  a  concert  singer,  and  she  studied  so  assiduously  that 
in  a  few  weeks  there  Avas  a  visible  improvement.  On  May  3d, 
1839,  scarcely  a  month  from  the  time  of  her  arrival  in  Dubhn, 
she  ajipeared  with  her  master  at  his  annual  concert  in  the 
great  room  of  the  Rotunda,  before  a  crowded  and  fashionable 
audience.  She  was  Avelcomed  with  Irish  cordiality,  and,  al- 
though timid,  she  sang  with  some  confidence.  Even  the  pro- 
fessional friends  of  her  master  were  surj^rised  at  her  rapid  im- 
provement. She  sang  with  great  sweetness,  and  was  encored 
in  the  duet,  "  O'er  shepherd  pipe,"  with  Signor  Sapio.  Her 
second  appearance  took  place  on  the  8th  of  December,  at  a 
concert  given  by  the  Anacreontic  Society.  Her  style,  natur- 
ally pure,  had  been  cultivated  Avith  the  utmost  care,  and  her 
execution  of  "  Qui  la  voce,"  from  I Puritani,  and  "  Come  per 
sereno,"  showed  the  excellence  of  her  tuition. 

The  folloAving  month  the  young  singer  jjaid  a  visit  to  her 
native  city,  Avhere  her  patrons  were  greatly  astonished  and 
gratified  by  her  singular  progress.  Tlie  bishop  gave  a  pri- 
vate concert  expressly  in  her  honor,  and  her  performance  rich- 
ly rewarded  those  friends  Avho  had  taken  so  kind  an  interest 
in  her  welfare.  Before  quitting  Limerick  she  sang  in  public 
at  a  musical  entertainment,  for  the  joint  benefit  of  herself  and 
Signor  Sapio. 

On  returnmg  to  Dublin  and  resuming  her  studies,  her  ardor 
required  to  be  checked,  lest  her  health  should  suffer  from  too 
constant  application.  She  sang  again  in  public,  June  12, 1841, 
at  a  concert  given  by  Mr.  J.  P.  Knight,  at  which  she  Avas  in- 
troduced to  Liszt,  Avho  Avas  so  charmed  Avith  her  voice  and 
style  that  he  Avrotc  in  terms  of  congratulation  to  Mrs.  Knox, 
daughter-in-laAV  of  the  Bishop  of  Limerick.  During  the  re- 
mainder of  this  year  Miss  Hayes  Avas  one  of  the  leading  sing- 
ers at  the  Anacreontic,  Philharmonic,  and  other  Dublin  con- 
certs. She  Avas  soon  in  a  position  to  command  terms,  and  in- 
creased her  demand  from  five  to  ten  guineas — a  prosaic  meth- 
od of  proving  that  she  Avas  becoming  a  faA'orite  with  the  pub- 
lic. She  visited  Belfast  (singing  at  the  opening  of  the  Ana- 
creontic Hall),  Limerick,  Parsonstown,  and  other  places,  in  the 
course  of  the  summer  and  autumn. 

On  September  12th  Catharine  Avas  introduced  to  Lablache, 
the  mighty  basso.  She  Avas  rather  alarmed  at  the  idea  of 
singing  before  this  veteran  judge,  and  it  was  with  much  dif- 


426  QUEENS   OF   SONG. 

ficulty  that  she  could  be  persuaded  to  venture  on  "Qui  la 
voce."  Lablache  heard  her  with  attention;  and  when  she 
had  finished,  instead  of  offering  any  opinion,  he  simply  asked 
her  to  try  another  and  more  difficult  solo.  Then  he  proposed 
that  they  should  sing  a  duet  together,  then  another,  till  the 
trial  terminated  in  a  day's  practice.  At  last  Lablache  smiled, 
and  with  some  flattering  words  predicted  a  most  glowing  fu- 
ture for  her.  He  advised  that  she  should  turn  her  attention 
to  operatic  singing,  and,  as  a  preliminary  stej),  suggested  that 
she  should  go  to  see  Grisi  and  Mario  perform  in  JVorma.  The 
height  of  Catharine's  ambition  had  previously  been  to  become 
a  concert  singer ;  but  these  remarks  changed  the  direction  of 
her  ideas. 

Lablache's  opinion  Avas  conveyed  in  the  following  letter  to 
Signer  Sapio:  "I  have  heard  with  infinite  pleasure  your  pupil. 
Miss  Playes,  and  I  find  she  possesses  all  the  qualities  to  make 
a  good  singer.  With  your  instruction  she  can  but  gain  every 
day,  and  I  am  certain  she  will  end  by  becoming  a  i^erfect  vo- 
calist in  every  sense  of  the  word."  Mr.  Benedict  was  also 
present  at  this  interview.  i 

I        The  next  night  Catharine  went  to  hear  Madame  Grisi ;  and      i 

/  from  that  night  her  aim  was  to  become  an  ojDeratic  singer,  j 
She  remained  under  the  tuition  of  Signer  Sapio  until  August,  i 
1842,  when  she  returned  home,  one  of  her  last  performances 
in  Dublin  being  at  a  private  concert  given  by  the  Countess 
de  Grey.  Her  great  desire  was  now  to  go  immediately  to 
Paris,  in  order  to  take  finishing  lessons  from  Manuel  Garcia, 
and  she  succeeded  in  obtaining  the  consent  of  her  friends  to 
her  departure.  It  was  suggested  that  she  might  wait  until  a 
family,  about  to  go  to  France  in  October,  should  leave  Ire- 
land, when  she  could  accomi^any  them;  but  the  thought  of 
the  delay  fretted  the  impatient  girl,  and  she  became  so  fever- 

I        ish  that  her  friends  were  fain  to  permit  her  to  start  alone.     In 
October  Cathai'iue  arrived  in  Paris  with  a  letter  of  introduc- 
tion to  Mr.  George  Osborne,  the  pianist,  by  whose  amiable 
wife  she  was  warmly  received. 
Miss  Hayes  at  once  commenced  her  studies  with  Garcia, 

\       whom  she  declared  to  be  "  the  dearest,  the  kindest,  and  the 

'■  most  generous  of  masters."  At  the  end  of  eighteen  months, 
Garcia  said,  he  could  not  add  a  single  grace  or  charm  to  her 
beautiful  voice,  and  advised  her  to  proceed  immediately  to  It- 


I 


CATHARINE   HAYES.  427 

aly,  where  alone  she  could  obtain  the  requisite  finish  and  prac- 
tice for  the  lyric  stage.  In  accordance  with  this  counsel  she 
went  to  Milan,  and  placed  herself  under  the  instruction  of 
Signor  Felice  Ronconi  (brother  of  the  celebrated  baritone), 
professor  of  singing  to  the  Conservatorio.  While  studying 
with  him,  her  clear,  pure  voice  and  already  admirable  style 
caused  her  to  be  invited  to  numerous  musical  reunions,  at  one 
of  which  she  met  Grassini,  who  sincerely  congratulated  her  on 
the  possession  of  an  organ  so  beautiful,  and  on  the  bright  fu- 
ture which  awaited  her.  The  signora  also  gave  a  more  sub- 
stantial proof  of  her  disinterested  admiration  by  writing  to 
Signor  Provini,  impresario  of  the  Opera  at  Marseilles,  telling 
him  of  this  young  star,  and  advising  him,  in  a  friendly  way, 
not  to  lose  an  opportunity  of  securing  a  valuable  addition  to 
his  company.  Signor  Provini  accordingly  came  to  Milan,  and, 
having  heard  Miss  Hayes,  offered  her  terms  which  seemed  to 
her  a  fortune,  and  she  joyfully  accepted  an  engagement  for 
two  months. 

The  10th  of  May,  1845,  Catharine  Hayes  stood  trembling  at 
the  wings  in  the  Opera  House  of  Marseilles  as  Elvira  in  I Pio- 
ritani.  The  house  was  crowded,  and  she  felt  a  kind  of  faint- 
ness,  and  a  dreadful  sinking  of  the  heart ;  indeed,  when  she 
stepped  on  the  stage,  she  thought  her  failure  was  almost  cer- 
tain, and  she  afterward  said  that  the  agony  of  that  thought 
was  nearly  insupportable.  The  audience  received  her  Avith 
some  slight  encouragement ;  but  the  trying  scene  between  El- 
vira and  Giorgio  passed  off  in  silence :  not  a  sound  of  appro- 
val was  heard  until  the  eighth  scene  oj^ened,  when,  in  her 
bridal  array,  the  agitated  Elvira,  licr  lips  blanched  Avith  fear, 
again  appeared.  She  was  faint  and  frightened,  and  the  fail- 
ure which  she  had  anticipated  on  her  first  entry  now  seemed 
certain.  But  on  commencing  the  polacca  "  Son  Vergin,"  she 
felt  suddenly  inspired,  and,  her  very  despair  lending  her  cour- 
age, she  sang  this  beautiful  air  with  sweetness,  tenderness,  and 
expression.  "  The  ice  Avas  at  once  thaAvecl,"  says  one  of  her 
biographers;  "a  general  burst  of  approbation  startled  her 
from  almost  despair  into  a  perfect  rapture.  A  flattering  en- 
core then  farther  bewildered  her  Avith  a  ncAV  and  exquisite 
joy,  and  at  its  termination,  as  the  shouts  of  applause  foUoAved 
her  from  the  stage,  she  Avept  with  pleasure  to  know  that  the 
dream  of  her  life's  ambition  had  begun  to  be  realized,  and  she 


428  QUEEXS    OF   SONG. 

felt  she  had  succeeded.     The  curtain  fell  amid  the  most  en- 
thusiastic plaudits,  renewed  again  and  again,  till  the  agitated 
but  delighted  girl  reappeared,  when  numbers  of  the  passion- 
ate music-loving  audience  who  had  rushed  en  masse  from  the 
/      theatre,  and  retui'ned  loaded  with  artificial  flowers,  literally 
/       filled  the  stage  with  their  graceful  ofierings,  making  a  perfect 
./         garden  around  the  embarrassed  debutante." 
{  She  next  appeared  in  Lucia  di  Lammermoor,  when  she  con- 

firmed the  favorable  impression  which  she  had  created ;  and 
afterward  she  performed  Zora  in  Mosh  in  Egitto.  During  her 
three  months'  stay  in  Marseilles,  her  jDopularity  increased  so 
rapidly  that  Signer  Provini  actually  ofiered  her  an  engage- 
^  ment  at  the  Opera  in  Paris.  Fearing,  however,  to  encounter 
\  such  an  ordeal  while  she  had  yet  so  much  to  learn,  she  wisely 

1  declined  the  brilliant  ofier  and  returned  to  jMilan,  where  she       \ 
resumed  her  studies  under  the  direction  of  Signor  Ronconi.       \ 
T^^  young  singer  next  ajDj^eared  at  the  annual  concert  of  Ri-      ' 
cordi,  the  music  publisher,  where  she  met  the  manager  of  La 
\     Scala,  Signor  Morelli,  who  offered  her  an  engagement,  which 
,    she  accepted.     She  was  then  only  seventeen,  being  the  young-      ; 
\  est  artiste  who  ever  filled  the  position  of  prima  donna  at  that     I 
[  vast  theatre.  \ 

Three  months  after  she  mMe  her  debut  at  La  Scala,  in  ■ 
.Donizetti's  Linda  di  Chamouni,  but  without  success.  Her  \ 
timidity,  perhaps,  was  the  reason.  She  then  appeared  as  Des- 
idemona,  and  "made  a  decided  fiasco."  But  she  courageously 
/persevered,  and  at  last  created  a  great  sensation  in  La  Son- 
namhula.  In  Otello  she  also  achieved  a  triumph,  the  charac- 
ter of  Desdemona  being  well  adapted  to  her  delicate,  girlish 
style  of  beauty,  and  her  clear,  pure  soprano :  she  represented 
this  gentle  heroine  so  admirably  that  the  Milanese  unanimous- 
ly gave  her  the  flattering  designation  of  "  la  Perla  del  Teatro." 
She  remained  at  Milan  during  the  autumn  of  1845  and  the 
Carnival  of  1846,  when  Madame  Bishop  was  engaged.  Li  the 
spring  of  1846  Miss  Hayes  went  to  Vienna,  where,  she  laugh- 
ingly wrote  home,  she  was  quite  "  spoilt."  "  She  was  afraid," 
she  said,  "  that  her  head  would  be  turned  with  the  intoxica- 
tion of  such  unexpected  success." 

On  the  first  night  of  the  Carnival  of  1847  Miss  Hayes  made 
her  appearance  in  Venice,  in  a  new  opera  composed  expressly 
for  her  by  Malespino,  a  young  Italian  nobleman,  entitled  Al- 


CATHAKINE   HAYES.  429 

hergo  di  Momano.  The  music  was  indifferent,  and  the  sing- 
ers worse.  The  audience  received  the  opera  with  chilUng  si- 
lence ;  and  when  Cutarina  entered  in  the  middle  of  the  first 
act,  she  found  the  house  in  a  horribly  bad  humor.  At  sight 
of  her  fair  young  face,  however,  and  on  hearing  the  clear 
tones  of  her  sweet  sojirano,  the  anger  of  the  audience  grad- 
ually dissipated ;  and  although  Catharine  could  not  save  the 
IHCce  from  condemnation,  she  rescued  it  for  this  one  night. 
She  then  a^ipeared  as  Lucia  with  great  success.  During  the 
rondo  of  the  third  act,  the  audience  was  so  silent  that  (said 
the  Fifjaro  of  Venice)  the  buzzing  of  a  fly  might  have  been 
heard ;  and  at  the  close  of  the  oi^era  Miss  Hayes  was  called 
twice  on  the  stage,  and  applauded  for  nearly  ten  minutes.  In 
Linda  di  Chamouni,  she  was  not  only  completely  successful, 
but  was  the  cause  of  a  little  theatrical  uproar.  At  Venice, 
the  law  regulating  theatres  prohibits  any  artiste,  at  any  thea- 
tre, from  appearing  before  the  curtain  more  than  thrice,  in 
compliance  with  a  call  from  the  audience ;  but  when  Miss 
Hayes  had  retired  at  the  end  of  the  opera  on  this  occasion, 
the  excited  crowd  shouted  for  her  to  come  forward  a  fourth 
time.  The  young  prima  donna  dared  not  venture  to  disobey 
the  police  regulations ;  and  the  excitement  then  became  ter- 
rific, the  audience  asseverating  that  if  she  did  not  apf)ear  as 
many  times  as  they  chose  to  call  for  her,  they  would  tear 
down  the  theatre :  it  was  judged  advisable  to  yield  to  their 
wishes,  and,  when  she  finally  appeared,  she  was  covered  with 
flowers. 

She  also  performed  in  a  new  opera,  Griselda,  by  Frederico 
Ricci,  and  then  visited  Vienna,  where  Ricci  wrote  for  her  his 
EstreUa.  She  then  returned  to  Italy,  appearing  first  at  Milan, 
where  she  sang  in  Mercadante's  Giuramento^  and  also  in  3Ior- 
tedo^  an  opera  composed  expressly  for  her.  Thence  she  went 
to  Bergamo,  where  she  met  Ri;bini  at  a  banquet  given  by  the 
podesta.  She  had  alvrays  greatly  desired  to  hear  this  illustri- 
ous tenor,  and,  having  intimated  her  wish,  he  very  kindly  sang 
for  her  his  celebrated  air  from  II  Pirata,  asking  her  afterward 
to  accompany  him  in  the  duet  "  Su  la  Tomba,"  from  Lucia  di 
Lammermoor.  Anxious  to  give  this  great  master  a  favorable 
idea  of  her  powers.  Miss  Hayes  exerted  herself  to  the  utmost, 
and  surpassed  herself  Rubini  said  the  most  flattering  things 
to  her,  and  assured  her  of  undoubted  success.    For  her  bene- 


430  QUEENS   OF   SONG. 

fit  at  Bergamo  she  gave  a  miscellaneous  concert,  which  Avas 
largely  attended. 

From  Bergamo  she  went,  in  September,  1847,  to  Verona, 
where  she  sang  during  the  Carnival  in  Verdi's  I  Mas)iadiei% 
and  was  received  with  a  tempest  of  applause.  Thence  she 
went  to  Florence,  where  she  met  Madame  Catalani,  who  al- 
ways welcomed  her  as  a  visitor.  One  day,  Catharine  having 
sung  in  the  salon  before  a  large  company,  the  ex-Queen  of 
Song  kissed  her  afiectionately,  and  exclaimed,  "What  would 
I  not  give  to  be  in  London  when  you  make  your  debut! 
Your  fortune  is  certain ;  and  remember,  my  doors  are  always 
open  to  you."  Mercadante,  the  composer,  also  expressed  the 
highest  admiration  for  Catarina's  talents. 

At  the  Carlo  Felice,  Genoa,  she  performed  Maria  di  Rohan 
and  other  leading  parts  in  Verdi's  works  with  distinguished 
success.  On  the  occasion  of  her  farewell  benefit,  when  the 
curtain  fell,  the  aristocratic  ladies  left  their  boxes,  and  went 
behind  the  scenes  to  present  the  young  donna  with  enormous 
bouquets,  expressing  at  the  same  time  the  warmest  wishes  for 
her  success  in  Encjland. 

Mr,  Delafield,  who  had  offered  engagements  to  almost  ev- 
ery prima  donna  in  existence,  had  engaged  Catharine  Hayes 
at  a  salary  of  £1300.  His  company  consisted  of  Mesdames 
Grisi,  Persiani,  and  Brambilla,  Signori  Mario,  Salvi,  the  two 
Lablaches,  and  Tamburini.  On  Tuesday,  April  10, 1849,  Cath- 
arine Hayes  made  her  debut  at  the  Royal  Italian  Opera,  in 
Donizetti's  Linda  di  Chamouni^  with  Tagliafico,  Salvi,  Tam- 
burini, and  Mdlle.  de  Meric,  a  new  contralto.  Her  voice  had 
now  become  a  clear  and  beautiful  soprano,  of  the  sweetest 
quality,  fresh,  mellow,  and  pure,  and  of  good  compass,  ascend- 
ing with  ease  to  D  in  alt.  The  upper  notes  were  limpid,  and 
like  a  well-tuned  silver  bell  up  to  A;  thence  up  to  D  flat  they 
were  less  liquid,  and  slightly  veiled,  betraying  signs  of  having 
been  strained  by  her  exertions  on  the  Italian  stage.  The  mid- 
dle register  had  not  yet  gained  that  fullness  and  sonoi'ous  sweet- 
ness Avhich  afterward  constituted  its  greatest  charm,  but  the 
lower  tones  were  the  most  beautiful  ever  heard  iu  a  real  so- 
prano. Her  style,  unpretendingly  jjure,  was  artistic  and  grace- 
ful. She  never  forced  her  voice,  although  she  had  abundance 
of  energy  at  command  ;  nor  ever  exaggerated,  though  she  had 
deep  sensibility  and  strong  dramatic  feeling.     Her  intonation 


^ 


CATHARINE   HATES.  431 

was  invariably  correct,  and  she  had  great  facility  of  execution, 
notwithstanding  tliat  her  voice  was  not  remarkable  for  flexi- 
bility. She  had  faults,  it  is  true,  but  these  were  atoned  for  by 
many  beauties. 

Her  conception  of  character  was  fine,  energetic,  and  earn- 
est, though  she  failed  in  the  physical  strength  requisite  for 
embodying  her  ideas;  she  never  trifled  on  the  stage,  but,  as 
far  as  her  powers  would  admit,  threw  herself  into  the  dramat^ 
;  ic  situation  with  spirit.  She  was  a  touching  actress  in  parts 
^such  as  Amina,  Lucia,  or  Linda  —  innocent,  plaintive,  and 
charming ;  and  in  such  characters  the  pathos  of  her  singing 
was  very  touching.  She  was  tall,  with  a  fine  figure,  and  deli- 
cately marked,  perfectly  feminine  features ;  her  manner  was 
graceful  and  ladylike,  and  her  movements  unconstrained. 
The  audience  received  her  with  rapturous  welcome,  which 
I  took  her  by  surprise,  and  at  first  rendered  her  so  nervous  that 
she  could  scarcely  command  her  powers.  Her  acting  in  the 
last  scene,  when  Linda  gradually  recovers  her  reason  and  rec-/ 
ognizes  her  lover,  her  parents,  and  her  friends,  was  beautiful' 
— pathetic  and  forcible  in  the  highest  degree.  Toward  the 
close  of  the  performance,  those  who  observed  her  narrowly 
saw  that  she  was  aifected  by  some  overpowering  emotion ; 
and  when  the  curtain  fell,  she  was  to  be  seen  kneeling  in  a 
private  box,  sobbing  at  the  feet  of  her  first  and  dearest  friend, 
the  Bishop  of  Limerick.  She  had  noticed  him  among  the  as- 
sembly, and  at  the  first  opportunity  flew  to  pour  out  her  joy 
and  gratitude,  ascribing  to  him  every  honor  and  reward  she 
had  gained.  All  the  London  papers  pronounced  eulogiums 
on  her  performance,  and  her  .success  was  undoiibted. 

Her  second  performance  (3Iay  4)  Avas  Lucia  di  JLammer- 
moor,  with  Mario  and  Tamburini.  She  made  a  still  more  fa- 
vorable impression  in  this  opera,  in  which  she  was  not  only 
pathetic,  but  original.  Roberto  il  Dlavolo  was  rei)rcsented 
for  the  first  time  at  the  Italian  Opera  M:Ty  12,  with  great 
splendor,  when  Catharine  Hayes  took  the  part  of  Alice  for 
the  first  time.  The  cast,  though  including  one  or  two  favor- 
ites, was  not  sufliciently  strong,  and  the  opera,  not  proving 
beneficial  to  the  treasury,  was  withdrawn  after  two  represent- 
ations. Madame  Dorus  Gras,  in  defiance  of  a  severe  cold, 
took  the  character  of  Alice  at  the  second  performance,  in  con- 
sequence of  the  sudden  indisposition  of  Miss  Hayes. 


432  QUEENS   OF   SONG. 

The  Irish  prima  donna  had  the  honor  of  singing  at  Buck- 
ingham Palace  toward  the  close  of  the  season,  when  her  maj- 
esty condescended  to  enter  into  conversation  with  her,  com- 
plimenting her  on  what  she  was  pleased  to  term  her  "  deserv- 
ed success,"  and  anticipating  for  her  future  honors  and  re- 
wards. Prince  Albert  and  the  Duke  of  Cambridge  also  paid 
her  the  most  flattering  compliments. 

The  announcement  of  the  engagement  of  Miss  Hayes  by  the 
Dublin  Philharmonic  Society,  after  an  absence  of  seven  years, 
drew  an  unusually  full  audience  to  the  concert-room,  including 
the  Earl  and  Countess  of  Clarendon.  The  welcome  home  of 
the  "  Irish  Lind,"  as  she  was  called,  was  truly  Hibernian  in  its 
warmth  and  enthusiasm,  and  her  singing  created  an  extraor- 
dinary sensation.  She  made  her  second  appearance  at  the 
Theatre  Royal.  The  opera  was  Lucia  di  Lammermoor^  the 
Edgardo  of  the  evening  being  Signor  Pagliere,  an  unknown 
performer.  "  His  ludicrous  inefficiency,"  says  a  writer  in  the 
Dublin  JJnwersity  Magazine^  "elicited  shouts  of  laughter,  with 
a  variety  of  ingenious  mimicries  from  the  wags  among  the 
audience,,  the  manifestations  of  disapprobation  for  him  being 
blended  with  loud  applause  for  the  frightened  debutante.  In 
the  midst  of  this  uproar  and  noise,  a  more  glaring  break-down 
than  before  on  Edgar's  part  was  followed  by  a  hurricane  of 
"  catcalls."  Miss  Hayes,  with  wonderful  self-possession,  cour- 
tesied  to  that  unfortunate  gentleman  and  left  the  stage. 

The  curtain  Avas  then  rung  down,  and  an  indescribable  scene 
of  tumultuous  excitement  followed,  cheers,  groans,  laughter, 
and  hisses  forming  a  very  Babel  of  discord.  Mr.  Sims  Reeves, 
who,  with  Mr.  Whitworth,  Miss  Lucombe,  and  an  English  op- 
era company,  had  terminated  an  engagement  the  day  of  Miss 
Hayes's  coming,  occupied  a  private  box,  and  sat,  during  all 
this  turmoil,  full  in  view  of  the  audience.  He  was  quickly 
recognized,  and  shouts  of  "Reeves!  Reeves!"  arose  from  near- 
ly every  part  of  the  house.  The  lessee,  Mr.  Calcraft,  on  this, 
came  forward,  and  intimated  that  "he  had  then  no  control 
over  Mr.  Reeves,  whose  engagement  had  terminated,  and  who, 
on  being  asked  to  sing  on  this  emergency,  had  positively  de- 
clined." Mr.  Reeves  instantly  sprang  to  his  feet,  leaned  out 
of  the  box,  and  on  obtaining  a  partial  silence,  said,  in  no  very 
temperate  tones :  "  Ladies  and  gentlemen,  I  will  sing  to  oblige 
you,  but  not  to  oblige  Mr.  Calcraft ;"  on  which  the  lessee,  in 


il 


CATHAEIJTE   HATES.  433 

the  blandest  tones,  concluded  the  first  act  of  unpleasantness  in 
these  words :  "  I  am  not  angry,  I  assure  you,  that  Mr.  Reeves 
has  declined  to  sing  to  oblige  me ;  but  I  am  gratified  to  find  that 
he  has  consented  to  do  so  to  please  the  audience,  and  doubly 
gratified  because,  under  the  untoward  circumstances,  he  will 
support  your  gifted  and  distinguished  young  countrywoman," 

"After  the  necessary  delay  of  dressing,  etc.,  the  curtain 
again  rose,  and  the  opera  proceeded,  Mr.  Reeves  performing 
Edgar  better  than  on  any  former  occasion  in  this  city,  and 
Miss  Hayes  nerving  herself  so  fully  for  her  task  that  no  trace 
of  tremulousness,  no  shadow  of  the  agitating  scene  through 
which  she  had  passed,  marred  the  beauty  of  her  singing  and 
acting.  At  the  termination  of  each  act  they  were  both  called 
before  the  curtain ;  and  when  the  opera  concluded,  their  pres- 
ence was  again  and  again  demanded,  amid  the  almost  furious 
waving,  not  only  of  hats  and  handkerchiefs,  but  of  canes  and 
umbrellas.  The  curtain  having  finally  descended,  the  lessee 
came  forward,  Mr.  Reeves  also  appearing  at  the  wing,  and 
still  in  the  costume  of  Edgardo :  this  occasioned  a  renewal  of 
the  uproar;  but  mutual  explanations  ensued,  and  the  singer 
and  manager  shook  hands  upon  the  stage.  This  unfortunate 
disturbance  had  nearly  proved  fatal  to  the  success  of  the  first 
appearance  of  Catharine  Hayes  in  the  metropolitan  theatre  of 
her  birthplace;  that  success  being  thus  suddenly  imperiled, 
and  so  nearly  marred,  it  is  not  surprising  that  Miss  Hayes 
should  refer  to  this  incident  as  the  most  painful  throughout 
her  entire  career." 

The  following  evening  she  appeared  in  Norma ;  and  she 
concluded  h(jr  brief  engagement  by  performing  in  La  Son- 
nambula^  completing  her  visit  by  two  concerts  given  in  her 
native  city.  Her  second  appearance  in  Dublin  took  place  in 
February,  1850.  The  11th  and  12th  of  March  she  was  en- 
Qfaored  to  sing  at  Limerick  in  Linda  di  Chamouni  and  Lucia 
di  Lammermoor^  being  accompanied  by  Miss  Poole,  Mr.Ti-av- 
ers,  Signer  Polonini,  and  Herr  Menghis.  From  Limerick  she 
went  to  Cork  and  Waterford,  and  her  reception  was  every 
where  most  gratifying. 

Having  accepted  an  engagement  from  Mr,  Lumley,  Catha- 
rine Hayes  made  her  first  appearance  in  Her  Majesty's  Thea- 
tre on  the  2d  of  April,  with  Sims  Reeves,  and  Signori  Belletti 
and  F.  Lablache,  Her  debut  in  Lucia  di  Lammermoor  was 
28  T 


434  QUEENS    OF   SONG. 

a  great  success.  The  London  critics,  without  a  single  excep- 
tion, spoke  in  ecstasies  of  her  vocal  and  dramatic  excellence, 
yet  she  was  afforded  very  few  opportunities  of  appearing.  Ill 
health  may  perhaps  have  interfered  with  her  performances,  for 
in  June  Madame  Frezzolini  was  obliged,  at  a  few  hours'  no- 
tice, to  undertake  her  part  of  Lucia. 

During  the  winter  of  1850-51  she  went  on  a  tour  through 
Ireland,  creating  a  furore  scarcely  inferior  to  the  "  Lind  ma- 
nia" of  '47.  She  then  went  through  the  English  counties, 
singing  at  Manchester,  Liverpool,  Birmingham,  etc.  At  the 
Carnival  in  Rome  in  1851,  she  was  engaged  at  the  Teatro 
d'Apollone,  and  performed  in  Maria  di  Holian^  which  she  sus- 
tained for  twelve  successive  nights.  Nothing  could  exceed 
the  delight  which  her  singing  and  acting  created.  She  also 
performed  in  I  Puritanic  and  was  announced  to  appear  in 
many  other  operas,  which  were  abruptly  forbidden  by  the  po- 
lice authorities.  She  was  treated  with  the  greatest  respect 
and  attention  by  the  most  exclusive  circles  in  Rome,  as  much 
on  account  of  her  irreproachable  personal  character  as  through 
admiration  for  her  talents.  She  was  honored  with  the  dijolo- 
ma  of  the  "  Accademia  di  Santa  Cecilia,"  one  of  the  oldest  and 
most  respected  musical  societies  in  Italy. 

From  Rome  she  returned  to  London,  where,  during  the 
season  of  1851,  she  was  the  star  of  the  concert-room  in  Lon- 
'lon,  and  of  the  performances  of  the  Sacred  Harmonic  Society, 
where  she  sang  in  the  oratorios  of  Handel,  Haydn,  and  Men- 
delssohn. May,  1851,  she  sang  at  the  Philharmonic  Concerts, 
Liverpool ;  and  in  June  she  was  at  Cork.  She  was  more  suit- 
ed for  the  concert-room  than  for  the  stage,  and  her  ballad-sing- 
ing Avas  incomparable ;  indeed,  in  the  execution  of  the  ballads 
of  her  native  land  she  was  not  to  be  surpassed.  She  threw 
her  whole  soul  into  them  with  an  ardor  which  seemed  to 
English  ears  somewhat  exaggerated  ;  and  through  her  magic- 
al interpretation  of  their  national  airs,  she  exercised  an  extra- 
ordinary spell  over  the  feelings  of  her  Irish  audiences :  since 
the  days  of  Catharine  Stephens,  no  vocalist  had  ever  given 
ballads  as  Catharine  Hayes  gave  them.  In  July  and  August 
Miss  Hayes  visited  Trouville  and  Havre,  then  returned  to 
England  to  sing  at  concerts  in  Manchester  and  Liverpool. 
Her  final  appearance  in  England  for  many  years  was  at  the 
Theatre  Royal,  Liverpool. 


CATUARINE   HAYES.  435 

She  tlieii  commenced  one  of  the  most  singular  journeys 
round  the  world  ever  undertaken  by  artiste.  She  left  Liver- 
pool in  September,  with  Mr.  Augustus  Braham  and  Herr  Men- 
ghis,  for  New  York.  Her  commencement  at  New  York  was 
threatened  with  failure,  in  consequence  of  inefficient  manage- 
ment ;  but,  fortunately,  Mr.  W.  Evory  Bushnell,  a  famous 
electioneering  agent,  seeing  what  might  be  done,  boldly  pro- 
posed to  rescue  her,  and  volunteered  to  carry  her  triumphant- 
ly through  the  length  and  breadth  of  the  Union.  She  accord- 
ingly, by  his  advice,  forfeited  £3000,  and  j^ermitted  him  to 
undertake  the  management  of  her  tour. 

December,  1851,  she  was  at  Philadelphia;  she  arrived  at 
San  Francisco  November,  1852,  and  was  singing  at  California 
in  1853.  Her  success  in  this  region  was  marvelous:  fabulous 
sums  were  paid  for  the  choice  of  seats,  and  one  ticket  sold  for 
81150.  She  then  departed  for  South  America,  and,  after  vis- 
iting the  principal  cities,  embarked  for  the  Gold-fields  of  Aus- 
tralia. She  gave  concerts  in  the  Sandwich  Islands,  and  arrived 
in  Sydney,  January,  1854.  From  Sydney  she  went  to  Mel- 
bourne and  Adelaide.  At  Melbourne  she  became  such  a  fa- 
vorite, that  when  she  announced  her  departure,  a  petition, 
most  numerously  signed,  was  presented  to  her,  begging  her 
to  continue  her  performances  for  some  time.  From  Adelaide 
she  went  to  India,  giving  concerts  in  Calcutta  and  Singapore. 
March,  1855,  she  gave,  in  aid  of  the  Patriotic  Fund,  a  concert 
which  realized  upward  of  £200.  She  then  went  to  Bntavia, 
and  in  the  capital  of  Java  she  created  an  immense  sensation. 
From  thence  she  turned  her  steps  to  Port  Philip,  revisited 
Melbourne  and  Sydney,  appeared  at  the  Bendigo  Gold-fields, 
and  sang  at  Ilobart  Town  and  Launceston.  She  then  re-em- 
barked for  England  in  the  lloyal  Charter,  arriving  at  Liver- 
pool, August,  1856,  after  an  absence  of  five  years,  and  in  Oc- 
tober she  was  married  to  Mr.  Bushnell  (the  manager  of  her 
tour),  at  St.  George's,  Hanover  Square. 

Catharine  Hayes  (for  she  retained  her  maiden  name  in  pub- 
lic) continued  to  sing  at  concerts,  her  voice  having  gained  in 
power  and  lost  nothing  in  sweetness  during  her  lengthened 
absence.  After  fulfilling  an  engagement  with  M.  Jullicn,  Mrs. 
Bushnell  went  on  provincial  tours,  and  visited  the  south  of 
France  and  Spain,  whither  her  husband  had  been  ordered  by 
his  physicians  for  his  health.     Mr.  Bushnell  was  the  victim  of 


436 


QUEENS   OF   SONG. 


an  hereditary  malady,  and  they  fixed  their  residence  at  Biar- 
ritz, hoping  that  the  mild  climate  would  completely  restore 
him:  he  died,  however,  July  3,  and  his  widow  returned  to 
England,  occupying  herself  professionally  in  singing  at  con- 
certs in  London  and  the  provinces. 

On  Sunday,  August  11,  1861,  she  died  at  Sydenham,  in  the 
zenith  of  her  fame.  In  private  life  she  had  been  a  most  amia- 
ble, kind-hearted  Irishwoman,  ever  ready  to  assist  the  distress- 
ed ;  by  her  friends  she  was  idolized ;  by  the  public  she  was  re- 
spected for  the  purity  of  her  life,  and  admired  for  her  talents. 
She  left  property  to  the  value  of  £16,000,  and  bequeathed  leg- 
acies to  her  relatives  and  friends. 


.y 


il 


MADAME   MARIETTA    ALBONt. 


MARIETTA   ALBONI. 


CHAPTER  XXXIII. 

MARIETTA   AXBONI. 

Marietta  Alboni  was  born  at  Cesena,  a  little  town  of  the 
Romagua,  on  the  10th  of  3Iavch,  1822.     Her  father,  one  of  a 
most  respectable  Italian  family,  was  a  captain  in  the  customs 
department  of  Cesena,  and  he  bestowed  on  all  his  children  a 
very  good  education.    Marietta,  evincing  a  taste  for  music,  be- 
sides a  faculty  for  acquiring  languages,  Avas  placed  with  Signor 
Bagioli,  a  music-teacher  of  her  native  town,  who  took  such 
care  of  her  that  at  eleven  she  could  read  music  at  sight.    Hav- 
ing studied  solfeggio  with  Bagioli,  Marietta  was  sent  to  Bo- 
locrna  to  take  lessons  from  Madame  Bertolotti.     She  had  the   . 
good  fortune  at  the  same  time  to  receive  instructions  from    \ 
Rossini,  and  the  great  maestro  had  a  very  clear  idea  of  her  fu-    \ 
ture.     Some  one  asked  his  o2')inion  of  her  talents.     "  At  pres- 
ent,"  he  is  reported  to  have  answered,  "  her  voice  is  like  that    I 
of  an  itinerant  ballad-singer,  but  the  town  will  be  at  her  feet^ 
before  she  is  a  year  older." 

Shortly  afterward  Morelli,  director  of  many  theatrical  agen- 
cies in  Italy  and  Germany,  engaged  her  for  the  Teatro  Com- 
munale  of  Bologna,  and  she  appeared  there  as  Mafleo  Orsini, 
in  Litcrezia  Borgia^  in  1842.  She  Avas  then  transferred  to  La 
Scala,  Avhere  she  performed  in  Donizetti's  Favorita.  Rossini 
himself  signed  her  two  first  engagements.  "I  am,"  said  he, 
"  a  subscribing  witness  to  your  union  Avith  renoAvn.  May  suc- 
cess and  happiness  attend  the  union."  Her  success  was  attest- 
ed by  the  fact  that  the  manager  of  La  Scala  renewed  lier  eii- 
gao'ement  for  foar  successive  seasons. 

From  Milan  Marietta  proceeded  to  Vienna,  where  she  Avon 
fresh  laurels,  being  the  prima  donna  for  three  years.  She  then 
repaired  to  St.  Petersburg,  where  she  sang  for  tAVO  seasons ; 
returning  thence  to  Vienna,  she  traveled  through  Holland,  giv- 
ing concerts.     She  sang  also  in  Berlin.     "When  she  arrived  in 

that  city,  she  was  asked  if  she  had  Avaited  on  M ?    "  Xo," 

she  replied.    "  Who  is  this  M ?"    "  Oh,"  answered  her 


440  QUEENS    OF   SONG. 

friend,  "  he  is  the  most  influential  journalist  in  Prussia."  "  Well, 
how  does  this  concern  me  ?"  "  Why,"  rejoined  the  other,  "  if 
you  do  not  contrive  to  insure  his  favorable  report,  you  are  ru- 
ined." The  young  Italian  drew  herself  up  disdainfully.  "  In- 
deed !"  she  said,  coldly ;  "  well,  let  it  he  as  heaven  directs ;  but 
I  wish  it  to  be  understood  that  in  viy  breast  the  woman  is  su- 
perior to  the  artist,  and,  though  failure  were  the  result,  I  would 
never  degrade  myself  by  purchasing  success  at  so  humiliating 
a  price."  The  anecdote  was  repeated  in  the  fashionable  sa- 
loons of  Berlin,  and,  so  far  from  injuring  her,  the  noble  senti- 
ment of  the  young  debutante  was  appreciated.  The  king  in- 
vited her  to  sing  at  his  court,  where  she  received  the  well- 
merited  applause  of  an  admiring  audience ;  and  afterward  his 
majesty  bestowed  more  tangible  evidences  of  his  approbation. 

At  the  commencement  of  the  summer  of  1846  Marietta  was 
singing  at  Dresden,  in  II  Barbiere,  with  Tsitatschek,  and  early 
in  1847  she  sang  at  Rome. 

Mr.  Beale  having  heard  her  at  Milan,  and  being  charmed 
with  her  voice,  consulted  Signor  Costa,  and  offered  her  an  op- 
portunity of  being  heard  in  England.  She  was  engaged  in 
^  1847  at  the  Royal  Italian  Opera,  Covent  Garden.  Unherald- 
/  ed  by  the  trumpet  of  fame,  and  almost  unknown,  she  appeared 
under  most  disadvantageous  circumstances.  It  was  the  sea- 
son when  the  "  Lind  mania"  was  at  its  height,  and  the  blaze 
of  the  Swedish  Nightingale's  popularity  threatened  extinction 
to  any  star  which  might  come  too  near  her.  Nevertheless, 
one  night  Alboni  appeared  on  the  stage,  and  in  the  morning 
found  herself  famous. 

She  appeared  on  Tuesday,  April  6,  as  Arsace,  in  Semira- 
mide^  with  Madame  Grisi  and  Tamburini;  and  the  success 
she  achieved  then  she  never' lost.  The  audience  were  as- 
tounded at  the  wonderful  sweetness  and  capacity  of  her  or- 
gan. In  place  of  a  timid  debutante,  they  found  before  them 
a  highly-finished  vocalist,  unrivaled  since  the  days  of  Pisaroni; 
and  when  she  poured  out  her  voice  in  a  grand  volume  of  rich 
melody,  the  crowded  house  was  electrified.  In  the  magnifi- 
cent duet,  "  Giorno  d'Orrore,"  her  tones  rose  with  a  luscious 
power  which  was  responded  to  by  thunders  of  applause.  To 
her  we  are  indebted  for  that  beautiful  air,  "In  si  barbara," 
liitherto  suppressed  for  want  of  a  contralto  of  sufficient  com- 
pass to  give  it  full  effect. 


MARIETTA   ALBONI.  441 

Her  voice  was  a  superb  contralto,  yet  embracing  almost 
three  octaves,  from  E  flat  to  C  sharp :  its  tones  were  rich,  full, 
sonorous,  mellow,  liquid ;  in  truth,  the  vocabulary  of  epithets 
might  be  exhausted  in  a  vain  endeavor  to  convey  an  idea  of 
its  beauty.  Its  quality  throughout  was  equally  pure,  beau- 
tiful, flexible,  and  sympathetic.  Her  articulation  was  clear- 
her  notes  came,  even  in  the  most  difiicult  and  rapid  passages, 
with  the  fluency  and  precision  of  a  well-played  instrument. 
The  purity  of  her  intonation  was  absolutely  faultless ;  the  ra- 
pidity and  certainty  of  her  execution  no  one  can  imagine  who 
has  not  heard  her.  Her  style  and  method  were  models  of 
perfection,  her  taste  was  refined,  her  skill  consummate.  She 
displayed  the  utmost  reverence  for  the  ideas  of  the  composer 
whose  works  she  interpreted ;  and  even  in  the  music  of  Ros- 
sini she  did  not  interpolate  a  note.  But  her  singular  ease  was 
the  greatest  matter  of  wonder :  she  smiled  as  she  ran  over  the 
most  intricate  scales ;  and  her  singing  enchanted  the  connois- 
seur as  much  as  the  merest  amateur.  Yet  it  gave  the  hearer 
the  idea  of  being  purely  spontaneous,  not  acquired  by  art  or 
labor. 

In  person  she  was  large,  and  "frankly  inclined  to  embon- 
point ;"  yet  albeit  portly,  she  was  exceedingly  feminine  in  as- 
pect. Her  figure  was  symmetrical,  graceful,  and  command- 
ing ;  her  features,  without  pretensions  to  regular  beauty,  were 
highly  agreeable,  and  full  of  vivacity  and  kindliness.  Her 
physiognomy  was  genial ;  her  eyes,  when  lighted  by  the  pas- 
sion of  her  part,  flashed  with  extraordinary  brilliancy;  her 
smile  was  "bewitching;"  and  when  she  laughed,  she  not  only 
revealed  the  Avhitest  teeth,  but  her  laugh  was  so  infectious,  it 
was  impossible  to  resist  echoing  her  gayety.  She  was  not  a 
tragedian,  like  Pasta  or  Grisi;  on  the  contrary,  she  was  always 
a  little  cold  as  an  actress,  and  her  manner  indolent  and  ajja- 
thetic,  though  her  "  stage  deportment"  was  not  without  grace. 
Her  resplendent  voice,  however,  sufticcd  to  redeem  any  per- 
sonal imperfections ;  and  although  at  first  some  critics  were 
inclined  to  disparage  the  young  debutante,  they  acknowledged 
that  an  artist  of  high  order  had  appeared. 

Mdlle.  Alboni  went  from  triumph  to  triumph.  Her  ]Mal- 
•colm,  in  La  Donna  del  Lago,  Avas  pronounced  unequaled  since 
the  time  of  Pisaroni ;  in  Orsini  she  created  a  furore.  As  De 
Gondi  (llaria  de  Rohan)  she  was  admirable ;  and  as  Pippo, 

T  2 


/ 


442  QUEENS    OF    SONG. 

inimitable.  She  undertook,  at  very  brief  notice,  to  play  Per- 
siani's  part  in  II  Barhiere  di  Seviglia,  in  consequence  of  the 
sudden  illness  of  that  popular  vocalist ;  and  at  no  time  was 
Alboni  seen  to  greater  advantage.  There  was  a  vivacity  and 
lively  humor  in  her  performance  which  won  every  heart. 

M.  Duponchel,  who,  with  M.  Roqueplan,  had  succeeded  M. 
Fillet  in  the  management  of  the  Opera  in  Paris,  came  to  En- 
gland to  offer  her  an  engagement.  In  October,  therefore,  the 
young  singer,  now  a  world-wide  celebrity,  appeared  at  four 
concerts  in  Paris,  with  Alizard  and  Barroilhet.  The  programme 
of  these  concerts  was  not  much  varied :  the  cavatina  of  Ai-- 
sace,  tbe  duo  of  Arsace  and  Assur,  the  cavatina  of  Isabella  in 
JOItaliana  in  Algieri^  the  duo  from  II  Barhiere^  the  Brindisi 
from  Lucrezia  Borgia — these  composed  the  list  of  pieces. 

As  in  London,  Mdlle.  Alboni's  appearance  in  Paris  was  not 
announced  with  a  flourish  of  trumpets.  "Many  persons,  art- 
ists and  amateurs,"  said  Fiorentino,  "  absolutely  asked  on  the 
morning  of  her  debut.  Who  is  this  Alboni?  Whence  does  she 
come  ?  What  can  she  do  ?"  And  their  interrogatories  were 
answered  by  some  fragments  of  those  trifling  and  illusory  bi- 
ographies which  always  accompany  young  vocalists.  There 
was,  however,  intense  curiosity  to  hear  and  see  this  redoubt- 
able singer  who  had  held  the  citadel  of  the  Royal  Italian  Op- 
era against  the  attraction  of  Jenny  Lind,  and  the  theatre  was 
crowded  to  suffocation  by  rank,  fashion,  beauty,  and  notabili- 
ties on  the  night  of  her  first  concert,  October  9.  When  she 
stepped  quietly  on  the  stage,  dressed  in  black  velvet,  a  brooch 
of  brilliants  on  her  bosom,  and  her  hair  cut  d  la  Titus,  with  a 
music-paper  in  her  hand,  there  was  just  one  thunder-clap  of 
ap2:)lause,  followed  by  a  silence  of  some  seconds.  She  had  not 
one  acknowledged  advocate  in  the  house ;  but  when  Arsace's 
cavatina,  "  Ah !  quel  giorno,"  gushed  from  her  lips  in  a  rich 
stream  of  melodious  sound,  the  entire  audience  Avas  at  her  feet, 
and  the  critics  could  not  command  language  sufliciently  glow- 
ing to  express  their  admiration. 

"What  exquisite  quality  of  sound,  what  purity  of  intona- 
tion, what  precision  in  the  scales!"  cried  the  Revue  et  Gazette 
Musicale.  "  What  finesse  in  the  manner  of  the  breaks  of  the 
voice!  What  amplitude  and  mastery  of  voice  she  exhibits  in 
the  Brindisi ;  what  incomparable  clearness  and  accuracy  in  the 
air  from  B'ltaliana,  and  the  duo  from  II  Barhiere!    There 


MARIETTA   ALBONI.  443 

is  no  instrument  capable  of  reuderiug  with  more  certain  and 
more  faultless  intonation  the  groups  of  rapid  notes  which  Ros- 
sini wrote,  and  which  Alboni  sings  with  the  same  facility  and 
the  same  celerity.  The  only  fault  the  critic  has  in  his  power 
to  charge  the'  wondrous  artiste  with  is,  that  when  she  repeats 
a  mor9eau,  we  hear  exactly  the  same  traits,  the  same  turns, 
the  same  fioriture,  which  was  never  the  case  with  Malibran  or 
Cinti  Damoreau." 

"  This  vocal  scale,"  says  Scudo,  speaking  of  her  voice,  "  is 
divided  into  three  parts  or  registers,  which  follow  in  complete  | 
order.  The  first  register  commences  at  F  in  the  base,  and  i 
reaches  F  in  the  medium.  This  is  the  true  body  of  the  voice,  ] 
whose  admirable  timbre  characterizes  and  colors  all  the  rest. 
The  second  extends  from  G  in  the  medium  to  F  on  the  fifth 
line;  and  the  upper  part,  which  forms  the  third  register,  is  no 
more  than  an  elegant  superfluity  of  Nature.  It  is  necessary 
next  to  understand  with  what  incredible  skill  the  artiste  man- 
ages this  instrument ;  it  is  the  pearly,  light,  and  florid  vocali- 
zation of  Persian!  joined  to  the  resonance,  pomp,  and  ampli- 
tude of  Pisaroni.  No  words  can  convey  an  idea  of  the  ex- 
quisite purity  of  this  voice,  always  mellow,  always  equable, 
which  vibrates  without  eflbrt,  and  each  note  of  which  expands 
itself  like  the  bud  of  a  rose — sheds  a  balm  on  the  ear,  as  some 
exquisite  fruit  perfumes  the  palate.  No  scream,  no  aflected 
dramatic  contortion  of  sound  attacks  the  sense  of  hearing,  un- 
der the  pretense  of  softening  the  feelings." 

"But  that  which  we  admire  above  all  in  the  artiste,"  ob- 
serves Fiorentino,  "  is  the  pervading  soul,  the  sentiment,  the 
perfect  taste,  the  inimitable  method.  Then  Avhat  body  in  the 
voice!  What  largeness!  What  simplicity  of  style!  What  fa- 
cility of  vocalization !  What  genius  in  the  contrasts !  What 
color  in  the  phrases !  What  charm !  What  expression  !  Mdlle. 
Alboni  sings  as  she  smiles — without  eflbrt,  without  fatigue, 
without  audible  and  broken  respiration.  Here  is  art  in  its 
fidtitity !  here  is  the  model  and  example  whicE'every  one  who 
would  become  an  artiste  should  copy 

"It  is  such  a  pleasure  to  hear  real  singing!"  says  Hector 

Berlioz.    "  It  is  so  rare  ;  and  voices  at  once  beautiful,  natural, 

.    expressive,  flexible,  and  in  tune,  are  so  very  uncommon !    The 

W'oice  of  STdlle.  Alboni  possesses  these  excellent  quaTlties  in  the 

highest  degree  of  perfection.     It  is  a  magnificent  contralto  oi' 


444  QUEENS   OF   SONG. 

immense  range  (two  octaves  and  six  notes — nearly  three  oc- 
taves— from  low  E  to  C  in  alt),  the  quality  perfect  through- 
out, even  in  the  lowest  notes  of  the  lower  register,  which  are 
generally  so  disastrous  to  the  majority  of  singers  who  fancy 
they  possess  a  contralto,  and  the  emission  of  wMch  resembles 
nearly  always  a  rattle,  hideous  in  such  cases,  and  revolting  to 
the  ear.  Mdlle.  Alboni's  vocalization  is  wonderfully  easy ;  few 
sopranos  exhibit  equal  facility.  The  registers  of  her  voice  are 
so  perfectly  united,  that  in  her  scales  you  do  not  feel  sensible 
of  the  passage  from  one  to  the  other ;  the  tone  is  wicticous, 
caressing,  velvety,  melancholy,  like  that  of  ail  contraltos,  though 
less  sombre  than  that  of  Pisaroni,  and  incomj^arably  more  pure 
and  limpid.  As  the  notes  are  produced  without  effort,  the 
voice  yields  itself  to  every  shade  of  intensity,  and  thus  Mdlle."" 
Alboni  can  sing  from  the  most  mysterious  piano  to  the  most 
brilliant  forte.  And  this  alone  is  what  I  c*all  singing*  hxmianlyj 
"that  is  to  say,  in  a  fashion  that  declares  the  presence  of  a  hu- 
man heart,  of  a  human  soul,  of  a  human  intelligence.  Singers^ 
not  possessed  of  these  indispensable  qualities  should,  in  my 
opinion,  be  ranged  under  the  category  of  mechanical  instru- 
ments. Mdlle.  Alboni  is  an  artiste  entirely  devoted  to  her  art, 
and  has  not,  up  to  this  moment,  been  tempted  to  make  a  trade 
of  it;  she  has  never  hitherto  given  a  thought  to  what  her  de- 
licious notes — precious  pearls,  which  she  lavishes  with  such 
happy  bounty — might  bring  her  per  annum.  Different  from 
the  majority  of  her  contemporary  singers,  money  questions  are 
the  last  with  which  she  occupies  herself:  her  demands  have 
hitherto  been  extremely  modest.  Added  to  this,  the  sincerity 
and  trustworthiness  of  her  character,  which  amounts  almost 
to  singularity,  are  acknowledged  by  all  who  have  any  dealings 
with  her." 

The  first  night  of  Mdlle.  Alboni's  appearance  some  of  the 
boxes  were  not  filled  ;  on  the  succeeding  nights  there  was  not 
a  place  to  be  had.  "Two  theatres  as  large  as  the  Opera  might 
have  been  easily  crammed."  At  the  last,  more  than  a  thou- 
sand persons  were  refused  admission.  The  excitement  was  ex- 
traordinary. Alboni  surj^assed  herself,  and  was  almost  smoth- 
ered with  roses  and  camellias,  and  deafened  with  applause ; 
the  stage  was  literally  transformed  into  a  flower-garden  Avith 
the  profusion  of  bouquets.  / 

The  morning  after  her  second  appearance,  she  was  seated 


MARIETTA  ALBONI.  445 

quietly  in  her  hotel  on  the  Boulevard  des  Italiens,  reading  the 
feuilletons  of  Berlioz  and  Fiorentino  in  the  Journal  des  Debats 
and  Le  Constitutionnel  with  a  kind  of  childish  delight,  entire- 
ly unconscious,  apparently,  that  she  was  the  sole  theme  of  con- 
versation in  all  Parisian  circles.  A  friend  came  in,  when  she 
asked,  "  in  the  most  unaffected  tone  of  sincerity,"  whether  she 
had  sung  "  assez  bien"  on  Monday  night,  and  broke  into  a  fit 
of  merry  laughter  at  the  answer :  "  Trus  bien  pour  une  petite 
fille."  "  Alboni,"  writes  this  friend,  "  is  assuredly,  for  a  great 
artiste,  the  most  unpretending  and  simple  creature  in  the 
world.  She  has  not  the  slightest  notion  of  her  position  in  her 
art  in  the  eyes  of  the  public  and  the  musical  world." 

It  was  said  that  M.  Vatel,  manager  of  the  Italiens,  was 
driven  nearly  frantic  at  her  unprecedented  success;  for,  by 
the  advice  of  Lablache,  he  had  declined  to  engage  her,  al- 
though he  might  have  done  so  at  no  great  sacrifice. 

On  the  termination  of  the  four  concerts,  Alboni  went  to 
Pesth,  and  then  returned  to  Vienna,  At  Pesth  she  performed 
Orsini  in  Lucrezia  Borgia.,  and  De  Gondi  in  Maria  de  JRohan, 
and  gave  a  concert  besides.  At  Vienna  she  gave  a  concert  on 
the  20th  of  November,  in  the  Theater  an  der  Wien,  and  ob- 
tained "  a  prodigious  success."  From  Vienna  she  returned  to 
Paris.  She  made  her  debut  as  Arsace,  in  Semiramide,  Thurs- 
day, December  2,  with  Madame  Grisi,  Coletti,  Cellini,  and 
Tagliafico. 

The  theatre  was  crowded  with  fashionable,  literary,  and  art- 
istic celebrities,  princes,  ministers  of  state,  dilettanti,  and  wom- 
en of  fashion  and  wit.  A  subdued  murmur  circled  round 
the  house ;  some  prognosticated  a  triumphant  success,  others 
a  partial  one — if  not  a  complete  failure;  and  a  universal  buzz 
of  whispers  betrayed  the  lively  interest  felt  by  the  audience. 

The  curtain  rose.  Grisi  came  on,  and  was  received  with  a 
burst  of  applause.  At  length  a  sudden  and  unbroken  silence 
fell  on  the  assembly;  the  orchestra  played  the  long  sj'mphony 
which  preludes  the  contralto  air,  "  Eccorai  alfin  in  Babilonia," 
and,  with  a  tranquil  step,  Alboni  issued  from  the  side-scenes, 
and  slowly  walked  up  to  the  foot-lights.  "There  was  a  sudden 
pause,"  says  one  who  was  present ;  "  a  feather  might  almost 
have  been  heard  to  move.  The  orchestra,  the  symphony  fin- 
ished, refrained  from  proceeding,  as  though  to  give  time  for 
the  enthusiastic  reception  which  was  Alboni's  right,  and  which 


\ 


\ 


446  QUEENS    OP   SONG. 

it  was  natural  to  suppose  Alboni  would  receive.  But  you  may 
imagine  my  surprise  and  the  feelings  of  the  renowned  contral- 
to when  not  a  hand  or  a  voice  was  raised  to  acknowledge  her ! 
I  could  see  Alboni  tremble,  but  it  was  only  for  an  instant. 
What  was  the  reason  of  this  unanimous  disdain  or  this  unani- 
mous doubt?  call  it  what  you  will.  She  might  perhaps  guess, 
but  she  did  not  sufier  it  to  perplex  her  for  more  than  a  few 
moments.  Throwing  aside  the  extreme  diffidence  that  marked 
her  entree,  and  the  perturbation  that  resulted  from  the  frigid- 
j  ity  of  the  spectators,  she  wound  herself  up  to  the  condition  of 
I  fearless  independence  for  which  she  is  constitutionally  and 
/  morally  remarkable,  and  with  a  look  of  superb  indifference  and 
I  conscious  power  she  commenced  the  opening  of  her  aria.  In 
/  one  minute  the  crowd,  that  but  an  instant  before  seemed  to 

(  disdain  her,  was  at  her  feet !    The  effect  of  those  luscious  tones 

had  never  yet  failed  to  touch  the  heart  and  rouse  the  ardor  of 
an  audience,  educated  or  uneducated."  Alboni's  triumph  was 
instantaneous  and  complete ;  it  was  the  greater  from  the  mo- 
ment of  anxious  uncertainty  that  preceded  it,  and  made  the 
certainty  which  succeeded  more  welcome  and  delightful.  From 
this  instant  to  the  end  of  the  opera  Alboni's  success  grew  into 
a  triumph.  During  the  first  act  she  was  twice  recalled  ;  dur- 
ing the  second  act,  thrice  ;  and  she  was  encored  in  the  air  "  In 
si  barbara,"  which  she  delivered  with  pathos,  and  in  the  caba- 
letta  of  the  second  duet  with  Semiramide. 

She  next  performed  in  ia  Cenerentola  •with  the  same  suc- 
cess. 

In  1848  Mdlle.  Alboni  again  appeared  before  an  English 
audience  at  Covent  Garden,  at  a  salary  of  £4000.  She  com- 
menced with  Tancredi,  Madame  Persiani  being  the  Amenaide. 
She  was,  if  possible,  more  captivating  than  ever,  and  her  voice 
seemed  to  have  gathered  power  and  volume.  Her  natural 
ease  and  freedom  from  mannerisms  were  enchanting;  it  was 
only  to  be  regretted  that  she  had  not  more  dramatic  energy. 
The  chief  event  of  the  season  was  hjer  performance  in  ia 
Cenerentola  in  March.  She  also  performed  in  A?ina  J^olena 
Avith  Madame  Grisi,  Tamburini,  Tagliafico,  and  Mai'io ;  and 
(in  July)  in  GU  Ugonotti  with  Madame  Viardot  and  the  afore- 
said signori ;  then  in  La  Gazza  Ladra.  In  the  autumn  she 
returned  to  Paris,  when  her  success  was  as  brilliant  as  before. 

In  1849,  on  the  retirement  of  Jenny  Lind,  Mdlle.  Alboni  be- 


MAEIEITA   ALBONI.  447 

came  the  prima  donna  of  Her  Majesty's  Theatre,  performing 
with  Calzolari,  a  young  tenor  of  great  excellence,  Lablache, 
Colletti,  Moriani,  and  llouconi.  She  performed  the  parts  of 
Rosina,  Niuetta,  Zerlina  in  Don  Giovcmni,  and  Norina  in  Don 
Pasquale^  astonishing  the  public  by  the  facility  with  which 
slie  sang  music  so  oi^poscd  to  her  own  genre;  but  it  was 
regretted  that  the  superb  contralto  had  quitted  her  proper 
realm. 

In  March  she  abruptly  disappeared.  Before  leaving  Paris 
she  had  promised  to  sing  at  the  annual  concert  of  poor  old 
Filippo  Galli,  and  her  name  was  announced  in  the  bills  for 
Friday,  the  23d  of  March.  In  the  hurry  of  her  departure,  she 
had  omitted  to  warn  him  that  she  would  not  be  able  to  return 
before  the  very  hour  at  which  the  concert  was  to  begin ;  and 
the  suspense  and  anxiety  of  the  imfortunate  Filipi:)0  were  to 
be  more  easily  imagined  than  described  when,  asked  if  Alboni 
would  sing,  he  could  not  answer  definitively — "  Perhaps  yes, 
perhaps  no."  He  sold  very  few  tickets,  and  the  rooms  (in  the 
Salle  Herz)  were  thinly  occupied.  She,  however,  had  not  for- 
gotten her  promise:  at  the  very  moment  when  the  matinee 
was  commencing  she  arrived,  in  time  to  redeem  her  word,  and 
reward  those  who  had  attended,  but  too  late  to  be  of  any  serv- 
ice to  the  veteran.  Galli  was  in  despair,  and  was  buried  in 
reflections  neither  exhilarating  nor  profitable,  Avhen,  some  min- 
utes after  the  concert,  the  comely  face  and  portly  figure  of  Al- 
boni appeared  at  the  door  of  his  room.  "  How  much  are  the 
expenses  of  your  concert  ?"  she  kindly  inquired,  "  Mia  cara," 
dolorously  responded  the  beneficiaire,  "cinque  ccnti  franci 
(500  francs)."  "Well,  then,  to  repair  the  loss  that  I  may  have 
caused  you,"  said  the  generous  cantatrice,  "  here  is  a  bank- 
note for  a  thousand  francs.  Do  me  the  favor  to  accept  it." 
This  was  only  one  of  the  many  kind  actions  she  performed. 

From  Paris  she  went  to  Italy,  where  she  was  called  by  fam- 
ily affairs,  and  then  she  returned  to  England  to  resume  her  en- 
gagement. The  autumn  found  her  again  at  the  Theatre  Ital- 
ien,  performing  in  La  Cenerentola,  etc.,  with  Lablache,  Bordas, 
and  Ronconi,  director  of  the  establishment. 

In  April,  1850,  after  a  tour  of  unprecedented  brilliancy  in 
the  provinces  of  France,  Mdlle.  Alboni  returned  to  Paris  "with 
new  laurels  and  rolls  of  bank-notes."  The  principal  operas  in 
which  she  performed  during  her  trip  were  La  Favorita  and 


448  QUEENS   OF   SONG. 

La  Reine  de  Ghypre.  Her  success  had  been  so  great  that  the 
directors  of  the  Graud  Opera  (Theatre  de  la  Nation)  immedi- 
ately engaged  her  for  sixteen  representations  of  Madame  Vi- 
ardot's  great  character  of  Fides  in  Le  ProphUe.  She  com- 
menced in  May.  To  attempt  this  part  was  regarded  as  an  act 
of  singular  daring ;  but,  as  Madame  de  Stael  observes,  "  there 
is  nothing  so  successful  as  success."  Meyerbeer  himself  not 
only  offered  no  objection,  but,  being  present  at  the  first  per- 
formance, went  behind  the  scenes,  and  warmly  congratulated 
her  on  her  triumph.  From  Paris  Mdlle.  Alboni  went  to  Mad- 
rid, where  she  sang  in  La  Favorita  and  La  Sonnamhula  with 
Madame  Frezzolini,  Gardoni,  Herr  Formes,  and  Ronconi.  In 
September  she  reappeared  at  the  Theatre  Italien  in  La  Favo- 
rita, and  was  received  with  overwhelming  enthusiasm.  She 
Returned  soon  after  to  Madrid. 

The  following  May  she  quitted  Madrid  and  returned  to  Par- 
is, when  Auber's  Corheille  cV  Oranges,  written  for  her,  was  pro- 
duced. Although  the  character  of  ZerHna  was  a  charming  one, 
it  did  not  suit  her ;  and  having  sung  this  pai-t  for  two  months, 
she  came  to  London,  returning  to  Paris  in  September.  De- 
cember, 1851,  she  commenced  a  course  of  representations  and 
concerts  in  the  provinces  in  England. 

In  1852  Mdlle.  Alboni  paid  a  visit  to  the  United  States, 
where  she  was  enthusiastically  received.  If  she  did  not  raise 
the  furore  which  Jenny  Lind  had  created,  she  was  none  the 
less  admired,  and  her  departure  on  the  conclusion  of  her  tour 
was  universally  regretted.  She  gave  her  farewell  concert  in 
New  York  at  the  Metropolitan  Hall  on  the  2d  of  May.  The 
hall  was  crowded  in  every  corner,  and  the  applause  was  vehe- 
ment, regret  for  her  departure  being  loudly  expressed.  This 
concert  was  for  the  benefit  of  Signor  Arditi,  who  had  been  the 
conductor  of  her  performances  during  her  sojourn  in  America. 

In  July,  1853,  Marietta  Alboni  married  the  Comte  de  Pe- 
poli  at  Paris,  and  it  was  rumored  that  she  was  about  to  with- 
draw from  the  stage ;  but  she  efiectually  disproved  this  by  ap- 
pearing, in  1854,  in  Paris,  performing  in  La  Donna  del  Lago 
and  others  of  Rossini's  operas.  In  the  spring  of  1855  she  was 
performing  in  Barcelona,  from  whence  she  came  direct  to  En- 
gland. On  her  appearance  before  her  London  admirers,  the 
reputation  of  her  youth  was  revived,  and  her  popularity  was 
undiminished.    In  May  she  went  with  Ernst  and  other  artistes 


MAEIETTA   ALBONI.  449 

on  a  pi'ovincial  tour,  under  the  management  of  Mr.  Beale,  re- 
turning then  to  London. 

In  July,  1855,  slie  was  at  the  Grand  Opera  in  Paris,  per- 
forming in  Le  Prophtte^  etc.,  with  lloger,  having  contracted 
an  engagement  for  three  years.  In  1856  she  was  at  Her  Maj- 
esty's Theatre  with  Piccoloraini,  and  made  her  first  appear- 
ance in  the  character  of  Azucena  in  II  Trovatore.  Her  per- 
formances were  not  confined  to  the  Opera  House ;  she  sang  at 
the  Crystal  Palace  and  in  the  Surrey  Music  Hall.  In  October 
she  was  again  at  the  Italiens,  commencing  with  La  Ceneren- 
tola.  She  then,  in  conjunction  with  Mario,  Graziani,  and  Ma- 
dame Frezzolini,  began  performing  in  the  works  of  Verdi.  II 
Trovatore  was  performed  in  January,  1857,  and  was  followed 
by  Higoletto,  which  was  produced  in  defiance  of  the  protesta- 
tions of  Victor  Hugo,  from  Avhose  play,  Le  Hoi  s'amuse,  the 
libretto  had  been  taken.  Victor  Hugo  declared  that  the  rep- 
resentation of  the  opera  was  an  infringement  of  his  rights,  as 
being  simply  a  piracy  of  his  drama,  and  he  claimed  that  the 
Theatre  Italien  should  be  restrained  from  performing  it.  The 
decision  of  the  court  was,  however,  against  the  irascible  poet, 
and  he  had  to  pay  the  costs  of  the  action. 

The  winter  of  1857  was  passed  by  Madame  Alboni  in  Mad- 
rid. In  the  spring  of  1858  she  was  singing  at  the  Theatre 
Italien  of  Paris.  Among  the  operas  in  which  she  performed 
during  the  London  season  of  1858  was  Luisa  MiUer.  In  or- 
der to  render  the  ensemble  as  perfect  as  possible,  she  under- 
took, with  real  artistic  feeling,  a  minor  character — the  Duchess. 
After  a  lapse  of  some  years,  too,  she  resumed  her  original  part 
of  Matfeo  Orsini.  She  also  appeared  with  Mdlle.  Tietjens,  the 
new  prima  donna,  in  II  Trovatore. 

In  1859  Madame  Alboni  was  again  at  the  Italian  Opera, 
Paris,  performing  Isabella  in  IJItaliana  in  Alffieri,  etc.  No 
living  singer  is  more  thoroughly  imbued  with  the  traditions  of 
the  school  to  which  she  belongs.  II  Giuramento,  disinterred 
the  preceding  season  for  the  gratification  of  the  dilettanti,  was 
reproduced,  Alboni,  Madame  Penco,  and  Graziani  being  its 
chief  support. 

In  1860,  after  an  absence  of  two  years,  Madame  Alboni  re- 
appeared. May  19,  at  Her  Majesty's  Theatre,  as  Maffeo  Orsini. 

In  1861,  Verdi's  Ballo  in  Maschera  was  brought  out  at  the 
Theatre  Italien,  Mesdames  Alboni,  Battu,  and  Penco,  Signori 
29 


450 


QUEENS   OP  SONG. 


Mario  and  Graziani,  forming  the  cast.  In  the  summer  Ma- 
dame Alboni  imdertook  a  musical  tour  through  England.  In 
the  present  season,  1863,  she  is  a  member  of  the  powerful  com- 
pany of  Her  Majesty's  Theatre. 

In  private  life  Alboni  is  amiable,  gay,  generous — full  of  that 
charmins:  insouciance  which  characterizes  the  Italian  artiste. 
She  is  perfectly  good-humored,  Avith  the  simplicity  of  a  child ; 
and  whenever  her  immense  success  caused  the  envy  of  her  ri- 
vals, she  was  the  first  to  laugh  and  disarm  jealousy  by  some 
bon  mot.  She  is  distinguished,  moreover,  by  many  eccentric- 
ities, and  for  the  independence  of  her  disposition.  She  bought 
a  very  fine  hotel  at  the  Cours  de  la  Heine,  richly  furnished,  and 
installed  therein  her  sisters  and  brothers.  Her  brothers  were 
among  the  bravest  soldiers  of  the  band  of  Garibaldi. 


ANGIOLINA  BOSIO.  451 


CHAPTER  XXXIV. 

ANGIOLINA  BOSIO. 

Angiolina  Bosio  belonged  to  a  family  of  Italian  artists  who 
have  cultivated  with  much  credit  music  and  the  drama.  She 
was  born  at  Turin,  August  22,  1830,  and  educated  at  Milan, 
her  singing-master  being  the  excellent  teacher  Cataneo.  The 
imj^resario  Barocchi,  divining  her  budding  talent,  oftered  her 
a  modest  engagement,  and  at  the  age  of  sixteen  she  made  her 
debut,  July,  1846,  at  the  Teatro  Re,  Milan,  in  I  Due  Foscari. 
After  a  brief  engagement  she  went  to  Verona,  where  she  con- 
firmed the  best  hojoes  of  her  friends,  and  excited  great  interest 
among  the  frequenters  of  the  opera.  Slie  then  suddenly  ap- 
peared in  Copenhagen,  where  she  was  applauded  and  caressed : 
so  popular  did  she  become,  indeed,  that  no  effort  was  spared 
to  retain  her  for  six  years ;  but  the  climate  was  not  suited  to 
her,  and  she  was  obliged  to  leave  the  country.  Her  farewell 
is  described  as  something  extraordinary.  She  was  next  en- 
gaged at  the  Circo  Theatre,  in  Madrid,  and  created  an  im- 
mense enthusiasm  among  the  Spaniards,  the  director  of  the 
theatre  being  compelled,  by  the  universal  voice,  to  engage  her 
for  the  season  following.  In  1848,  Angiolina  appeared  in  Par- 
is, at  the  Theatre  Italien,  in  I  Due  Foscari,  etc.,  Avith  Bordas 
and  Morelli,  but  did  not  create  even  a  passing  remark.  She 
went  immediately  to  Havana  as  a  member  of  Marti's  troupe, 
going  thence  to  New  York,  Philadelpliia,  and  Boston.  She 
was  ardently  admired  by  the  Americans. 

She  returned  to  Europe  in  1851,  and  shortly  after  married  a 
Greek  gentleman,  named  Xinda  Velonis,  She  was  engaged  for 
the  season  of  1852  by  Mr.  Gye,  for  the  Royal  Italian  Opera, 
and  on  Tuesday,  June  15,  1852,  Madame  Bosio  made  her  de- 
but in  the  opera  of  FFlisir  cVAinore.  She  did  not  create  by 
any  means  a  favorable  impression ;  her  voice  a2'>peared  "worn," 
and  her  intonation  sharp.  She  walked  the  stage  with  ease,  but 
beyond  this  did  not  display  any  talent  as  an  actress,  and  she 
was  pronounced  to  be  "a  good  second-rate  singer,  nothing 


452  QUEENS   OF   SONG. 

more ;"  but  for  the  Dulcamara  of  Ronconi,  the  opera  would 
have  proved  a  failure.  The  public  remembered  how  Madame 
Persian!,  Mdlle.  Lind,  Madame  Viardot,  even  Madame  Castel- 
lan, had  treated  the  light  and  brilliant  character  of  the  coquet- 
tish Adina.  Her  next  appearance  was  in  Eryiani^  when  it  was 
admitted  that  she  was  certainly  a  tolerable  singer — a  pretty 
good  substitute  in  case  of  necessity. 

Accident,  however,  revealed  her  genius.  On  the  conclusion 
of  the  season,  three  extra  performances  were  given  at  reduced 
prices.  M.  Jullien's  Pietro  il  Grande,  produced  the  same  year, 
was  announced,  but  the  illness  of  Tamberlik  compelled  the 
manager  to  substitute  I  Puritani,  and  Madame  Grisi  having 
declined  to  sing,  Bosio  was  requested  to  undertake  the  part  of 
Elvira :  feeling  sure  of  success,  she  did  not  hesitate. 

"  Madame  Bosio  was  extremely  nervous  in  the  first  scene," 
says  one  who  was  present.  "  The  duet  with  Giorgio  was  in- 
effective throughout ;  the  polacca  created  no  impression.  The 
curtain  fell  on  the  first  act  with  scarcely  a  hand  of  applause. 
Many  left  the  house.  The  audience  were  listless  and  apathet- 
ic ;  still  they  were  not  unkind,  and  listened,  when,  under  other 
circumstances,  they  would  have  expressed  dissatisfaction.  The 
curtain  rose  on  the  second  act,  and  when  Elvira  came  on  in  the 
mad  scene,  and  commenced  the  favorite  cavatina  'Qui  la  voce,' 
the  audience  were  strangely  inattentive.  Perhaps  their  indif- 
ference inspired  the  singer  with  determination ;  perhaps  from 
her  very  fear  there  grew  a  courage.  Whatever  the  cause,  Ma- 
dame Bosio  began  to  sing  in  reality,  and  the  slow  movement 
was  followed  by  '  bravas'  from  all  parts  of  the  house.  Now 
came  the  artiste's  revenge.  The  cabaletta  literally  took  the 
house  by  storm,  and  created  an  immense  furore.  A  more  sud- 
den and  enthusiastic  sensation  was  never  witnessed.  Madame 
Bosio  was  encored  with  acclamations,  and  recalled  several 
times ;  and,  what  was  more  to  the  purpose,  her  singing  indi- 
cated no  falling  off  in  the  third  act.  This  performance  was  in 
reality  the  turning-point  of  Madame  Bosio's  fortune." 

Her  success  was  talked  of  with  wonder  in  all  fashionable 
and  musical  circles ;  and  Mr.  Gye  immediately  engaged  her 
for  three  years. 

Madame  Bosio  was  the  prima  donna  of  that  winter  in  Paris. 
She  took  the  leading  part  when  Verdi's  Luisa  Miller  was  pro- 
duced at  the  Grand  Opera.     She  then  appeared  in  II  BarUere 


ANGIOLINA  BOSIO.  453 

cU  Seviglla — a  very  diflferent  work.  She  also  sang  six  times 
successively  in  Rossini's  fine  but  tiresome  opera,  Mos^  in  Egit- 
to.  She  also  appeared  at  the  Theatre  Italien,  in  Rossini's  Ma- 
tilda di  Shabran^  au  opera  in  which  she  was  seen  to  great  ad- 
vantage. 

In  the  jjrogramme  of  the  Royal  Italian  Opera  for  1853,  Ma- 
dame Bosio  was  announced  to  sustain  the  principal  characters 
in  three  new  operas — Rossini's  JSIatilda  di  Shahran,  Verdi's 
Migoletto,  and  Spohr's  Jessonda.  She  appeared  first  in  II  Bar- 
Mere,  then  as  Adina  {L'Ellsir  d^Ai7iore)  with  Ronconi  and  Lu- 
chesi,  a  new  tenor. 

Migoletto  was  produced  for  the  first  time  in  England  May 
14.  None  of  Verdi's  works,  with  the  exception  oi  Eriiani^ 
had  gained  such  a  reputation,  and,  at  the  time  of  its  produc- 
tion in  England,  it  Avas  being  performed  at  twenty  or  thirty 
theatres  on  the  Continent.  It  was  regarded  by  Verdi  himself 
as  his  chef-d'oeuvre.  It  created  great  interest  and  curiosity 
among  the  patrons  of  the  Royal  Italian  Opera ;  the  story  be- 
ing dramatic  and  full  of  bustle,  the  characters  striking  and 
well  colored,  the  scenic  effects  superb,  the  dresses  and  deco- 
rations costly  and  magnificent,  it  naturally,  therefore,  created 
a  furore.  Mesdames  Bosio  and  Nantier  Didiee,  Signori  Ma- 
rio, Ronconi,  Tagliafico,  and  Polonini,  constituted  the  cast. 
Madame  Bosio  surpassed  herself,  and  carried  off"  the  suffrages 
of  even  those  who  had  previously  refused  to  acknowledge  her 
talent.  Her  impersonation  of  Gilda  was  so  exquisite  as  to  re- 
move any  doubt  of  her  title  to  be  considered  a,  performer  of 
the  first  class.  She  also  appeared  as  Marguerite  de  Valois  in 
Gli  Ugonotti,  the  new  prima  donna,  Madame  Julienne,  being 
indisposed. 

Her  voice,  a  high,  silvery  soprano,  was  of  the  finest  timbre, 
limpid,  flexible,  vibrating,  and  of  great  extent.  She  had  a 
perfect  method,  and  irreproachable  good  taste ;  and  she  was 
one  of  the  most  finished  vocalists  of  her  time.  She  had  dra- 
matic feeling  as  profound  as  truthful ;  but  her  style,  original, 
yet  tempered  by  judgment,  never  reached  the  expression  of 
passion.  She  could  not  divest  herself  completely  of  her  indi- 
viduality, nor  abandon  herself  to  the  emotions  of  the  charac- 
ter ;  but  she  possessed  a  subtle  intellectual  charm,  indefinable, 
yet  impossible  to  resist.  She  belonged  to  the  school  of  sing- 
ers who,  Avhile  shining  equally  in  the  works  of  Mozart,  Rossi- 


454  QUEENS   OF   SONG. 

ni,  Bellini,  Donizetti,  even  of  Verdi  and  Mercadante,  yet  pre- 
serve the  traditions  of  the  fine  school  of  Italian  sinsjinsc.     She 
was,  above  all,  supereminently  graceful  in  her  person,  deport- 
ment, and  acting.     She  was  by  no  means  handsome ;  her  fea-   , 
tures  were  irregular  and  ill  formed,  yet  on  the  stage  she  look-  j 
ed  a  most  beautiful  woman. 

In  May,  1854,  Madame  Bosio  reappeared  in  II  Barhiere^ 
with  Mario,  Tagliafico,  Ronconi,  and  Lablache.  The  critics 
had  now  no  words  sufficiently  glowing  to  express  their  admi- 
ration: she  was  charming — exquisitely  delightful.  She  per- 
formed in  I Puritani  during  this  season ;  and  with  the  excep- 
tion, always,  of  Grisi,  she  was  the  best  Elvira  ever  seen.  There 
was  a  fluent  ease  in  her  performance  of  the  most  difficult  and 
trying  passages  which  was  perfectly  captivating.  Rossini's 
Matilda  di  Shcd)ran^  promised  the  preceding  year,  was  also 
produced.  Madame  Bosio  was  an  admirable  Matilda ;  and  if 
she  had  not  the  exhaustless  variety  in  ornament  possessed  by 
Madame  Persiani,  she  was  yet  fully  capable  of  executing  flu- 
ently the  most  light  and  florid  music.  Her  voice  was  invaria- 
bly pure,  true,  and  deliciously  sweet ;  her  style  most  finished, 
and  she  seemed  to  improve  every  day.  She  never  appeared 
in  a  part  which  suited  her  more  admirably  than  Matilda,  and 
in  it  she  sealed  her  reputation  as  a  florid  soprano  singer  of  the 
highest  class.  The  music  of  this  opera,  though  composed  in 
haste  by  Rossini  (in  ten  days,  it  is  said,  for  the  Carnival  at 
Rome  in  1821),  is  brilliant  and  spirited,  if  careless  and  irregu- 
lar; but  the  plot  is  very  stupid.  May  11th,  Madame  Bosio 
appeared  with  Sophie  Cruvelli,  Mdlle,  Marai,  Ronconi  the  in- 
imitable, Lablache,  Tamberlik,  Tagliafico,  etc.,  in  Mozart's  Don 
Giovanni.  She  was  a  most  captivating  Zerlina — sweet,  inter- 
esting, and  elegant.  She  performed  also  in  JOJElisir  d'' Amove 
with  Ronconi.  She  sang  in  IlBarhiere,  June  26th,  when  Ma- 
rio, as  the  Count,  made  his  first  ajDpearance  for  the  season,  and 
Lablache,  as  Bartolo,  his  first  appearance  at  the  Royal  Italian 
Opera,  Ronconi  being  the  Figaro.  As  Rosina,  Madame  Bosio 
was  "  charming,"  her  acting  being  graceful  and  animated,  and 
her  singing,  though  deficient  in  power,  exquisitely  sweet  and 
full  of  expression.  In  Migoletto,  Madame  Bosio  rei^resented 
Gilda  with  increased  reputation  both  as  an  actress  and  singer. 
In  BjigoMto^  Signer  Ronconi  had  a  part  which  brought  out  all 
his  versatile  talents  and  high  artistic  powers. 


ANGIOLINA  BOSIO.  455 

Dni-ing  the  winter  of  1854  Madame  Bosio  performed  at  the 
ItaUens,  in  Paris,  then  imder  the  management  of  Signor  Raga- 
ni,  uncle  of  GiuUa  Grisi.  The  following  year  she  again  made 
her  appearance  at  the  Royal  Italian  Opera  in  Ernani,  with 
Tamberlik,  Tagliafico,  etc.  The  ringing  quality  of  her  voice 
was  disjilayed  to  perfection  in  this  opera.  She  performed 
shortly  afterward  in  Le  Comte  Ory^  with  Mdlle.  Nantier  Didiee, 
Mdlle.  Marai,  TagUafico,  and  Gardoni.  As  the  Contessa  she 
was  seen  to  great  advantage,  for  her  best  performances  were 
those  in  which  the  singing  was  of  more  importance  than  the 
acting,  and  in  which  neither  tragic  power  nor  comic  humor 
was  needed.  JLe  Comte  Ory  is  full  of  lively,  luxuriant  melo- 
dies and  skillfully  constructed  harmony,  but  the  plot  is  absurd 
and  trashy.  Of  all  modern  soprani,  Madame  Bosio  most  un- 
derstood and  appreciated  the  music  of  Rossini ;  and  instead 
of  regarding  the  melodies  of  the  great  maestro  as  simply 
themes  for  the  purpose  of  displaying  the  richness  of  her  own 
fancy,  she  sang  them  conscientiously  and  with  due  deference. 

She  sang  at  the  Festival  at  Norwich  with  Clara  Novello, 
Lablache,  Gardoni,  Sims  Reeves,  and  others,  receiving  £300  for 
four  days. 

This  year  Madame  Bosio  accepted  an  engagement  at  St. 
Petersburg.  The  terms  were  100,000  francs  for  four  months, 
and  a  guaranteed  benefit  of  15,000  francs  more,  with  permis- 
sion to  sing  at  private  soirees  and  concerts.  Her  success  in 
St.  Petersbm-g  was  extraordinary.  The  Theatre  Italien  of  that 
city  has  been,  for  many  years,  one  of  the  most  brilliant  in  Eu- 
rope. From  the  time  of  Catharine  II.  composers  and  Italian 
vocalists  have  been  cordially  welcomed  at  the  court  of  Russia, 
and  largely  remunerated.  Cimarosa,  Paisiello,  Sarti,  Boiel- 
dieu,  and  Adolphe  Adam  have  written  operas  and  ballets  for 
the  Theatre  Italien  and  the  Theatre  Fran9ais  of  that  capital ; 
Rubini  spent  the  last  six  years  of  his  professional  career  in  the 
empire  of  the  Czar ;  and  Lablache,  and  many  other  great  ar- 
tistes, found  themselves  richly  repaid  for  daring  the  rigors  of 
the  climate. 

After  a  delay  of  some  months,  caused  by  the  illness  of  Ma- 
dame Bosio,  HEtoile  du  A^on?  was  produced,  January  4, 1856, 
at  the  Italian  Theatre,  St.  Petersburg.  Signor  de  Bassini  was 
Peter  the  Great ;  Calzolari,  Danilowitz;  Bettini,  Ismailoflf ;  La- 
blache, Gritzenko ;  Mdlle.  Marai,  Prascovie ;  Mesdames  Rossi 


456  QUEENS    OF   SONG. 

and  Tagliafico,  the  Vivandieres,  and  Madame  Bosio,  Catavina. 
The  action  of  the  piece  was  altered:  to  suit  the  prejudices  of 
his  imperial  majesty,  the  characters  were  changed,  and  the 
scene  was  transferred  to  Dalecarlia  in  Sweden,  King  Eric  tak- 
ing the  place  of  the  Czar.  So  great  were  the  expectations  of 
success,  and  such  the  demand  for  places,  that  the  prices  were 
raised ;  yet  the  house  was  crowded  to  suffocation,  and  the -ope- 
ra was  the  most  indubitable  triumph  ever  achieved  at  the  Thea- 
tre Italien.  October  1st  she  appeared  in  La  Traviata.  From 
St.  Petersburo-  she  went  to  Moscow. 

In  1856  Madame  Bosio  (with  Signor  Mario)  rescued  the 
Royal  Italian  Opera  by  the  brilliancy  of  her  performances  at 
the  Lyceum  Theatre,  whither  the  Italian  company  had  been 
removed  on  the  destruction  by  fire  of  the  establishment  in  Cov- 
eut  Garden,  Never  did  she  sing  or  act  more  captivatingly 
than  during  this  season.  Her  most  remarkable  performance 
was  in  La  Traviata^  which  she  then  appeared  in  for  the  first 
time  in  England.  Her  personation  of  the  unhappy  Violetta, 
in  almost  every  respect  different  from  the  reading  of  Mdlle. 
Piccolomini,  was  most  touchingly  beautiful. 

Having  rested  at  Florence  after  her  labors  in  Paris,  she  re- 
turned to  the  Lyceum  in  1857  with  Signor  Mario,  and  apiDcared 
again  in  La  Traviata  with  Mario  and  Tagliafico.  Her  exqui- 
sitely refined,  bewitching  impersonation  of  the  ill-fated  Violetta 
created  a  singular  excitement.  Her  Zerlina,  in  Fra  Diavolo, 
was  also  much  admired. 

The  performance  ofXrt  7>rty^ffl to,  February,  1858,  termina- 
ted the  season  of  the  Theatre  Italien  of  St.  Petersburg,  when 
Madame  Bosio  (who  sang  Avith  Calzolari  and  Bartolini)  was 
received  with  acclamations  ;  and,  at  the  end  of  the  first  act,  a 
deputation  waited  upon  her  in  her  box  to  offer  her  a  princely 
gift — a  splendid  bouquet  formed  of  three  stars  surrounded  by 
magnificent  turquoises  and  diamonds.  During  the  evening 
the  public  lavished  tokens  of  their  admiration  on  their  favorite, 
and  at  the  termination  of  the  oj^era  the  greater  part  of  the  au- 
dience escorted  her  carriage  to  the  door  of  her  hotel.  The 
emperor  and  empress  also  made  her  superb  presents. 

In  the  May  following  Madame  Bosio  made  her  first  appear- 
ance for  the  season  in  La  Traviata,  with  Signor  Gardoni,  at 
the  new  theatre,  Covent  Garden.  She  was  more  brilliant  and 
more  admirable  than  ever  during  this — alas  !  her  last — season 


ANGIOLINA   BOSIO.  457 

in  Loudon,  and  surpassed  all  her  former  efforts.  From  Lon- 
don she  returned  to  St.  Petersburg,  when  the  Czar  nomuiated 
her  premiere  cantatrice,  and  Signor  Taraberlik  the  premier 
chanteur  to  their  imperial  majesties — an  entirely  exceptional 
favor.  Signor  Tamberlik  also  received  the  gold  medal,  sur- 
rounded with  diamonds,  suspended  to  the  cordon  of  St.  An- 
drew, which  had  been  accorded  to  three  artistes  only — Rubini, 
Tamburini,  and  Lablache.  Madame  Bosio  was  the  first  who 
obtained  the  honor  of  being  named  premiere  cantatrice  to  the 
imperial  court. 

Suddenly  her  admirers  were  startled  by  the  news  that  An- 
giolina  Bosio  was  dead.  The  melancholy  intelligence  reached 
England  from  Paris  in  April,  1859,  and  "filled  all  musical  Lon- 
don with  consternation  and  regret."  She  had  died  on  the  12th 
of  that  month,  at  St.  Petersburg.  Always  of  a  delicate  and 
frail  constitution,  suffering,  too,  from  an  affection  of  the  lungs, 
the  rigorous  climate  of  Russia  had  in  all  probability  hastened 
her  death.  Iler  loss,  a  serious  one  to  the  lovers  of  music,  was 
sincerely  lamented  by  the  public.  So  gifted  a  singer,  so  ami- 
able a  woman,  so  elegant  an  actress,  in  the  prime  of  life — she 
was  scarcely  thirty — in  the  flush  of  her  powers  and  repiitation, 
could  not  but  be  regretted  by  all  who  had  heard  her.  Her  re- 
mains were  transported  to  the  vaults  of  the  cathedral  church, 
April  15,  through  an  immense  crowd;  the  Nevskoi  Perspect- 
ive being  so  thronged  with  a  dense  mass  of  spectators,  from 
the  house  of  mourning  to  the  church,  that  it  was  with  diffi- 
culty the  coffin,  carried  by  bearers,  could  reach  its  destination. 
Persons  of  all  classes  pressed  round  Avith  garlands,  flowers, 
crowns.  It  was  a  troublesome  task  to  clear  the  stairs  and 
corridors  of  the  house  Avherc  she  had  lived,  which  was  invaded 
by  the  crowd  for  an  hour  before  the  ceremony. 

The  obsequies  took  place  the  following  day.  The  cathe- 
dral church  of  Saint  Catharine  was  filled  long  before  the  time, 
though  they  had  been  obliged,  in  consequence  of  the  crowd 
Avhich  besieged  it,  to  admit  only  those  who  had  tickets.  Mem- 
bers of  the  corps  diplomatique,  the  highest  grades  of  the  ad- 
ministration and  of  the  army,  ladies  of  rank  and  fortune,  press- 
ed to  pay  a  last  mark  of  respect  to  the  gifted  being  whom 
they  had  so  admired  and  applauded  in  her  lifetime.  The  arts, 
the  sciences,  and  letters  delegated  their  most  noble  represent- 
atives ;  the  pupils  of  the  University  and  of  the  schools  mixed 

U 


458 


QUEENS   OF   SONG. 


in  the  crowd  of  officers  of  all  ranks  and  of  all  regiments,  and 
employes  of  divers  departments.  The  coffin,  covered  with 
crowns  and  flowers,  had,  the  previous  evening,  been  placed  be- 
fore the  choir  on  an  elevated  estrade.  At  eleven  o'clock  the 
mass  commenced,  the  requiem  of  Mozart  being  sung  by  the  ar- 
tistes of  the  German  Opera  and  of  the  chapel  of  the  cathedral. 
The  comrades  of  poor  Bosio  had  already  left  two  weeks  be- 
fore she  died,  or  they  would  have  taken  part  in  the  ceremony. 
About  half  past  twelve  the  funeral  cortege  began  to  move, 
and,  leaving  the  church,  proceeded  toward  the  cemetery  of 
Sainte  Marie.  The  crowd  was  enormous,  and  it  did  not  di- 
minish till  it  reached  the  gates  of  the  cemetery,  where  the  cor- 
tege was  met  by  many  ladies,  weeping  and  praying.  The  chor- 
isters of  the  Italian  Opera  sang  a  funeral  chant;  and  after  the 
prayer  of  the  clergy,  the  coffin  was  lowered  into  the  grave, 
where  wreaths  and  bouquets  were  flung,  and  one  of  the  per- 
sons i^resent  then  pronounced  a  funeral  oration.  "All  eyes 
were  full  of  tears,"  says  the  Journal  de  St.  Petershourg.  Nev- 
er, indeed,  was  songstress  more  sincerely  regretted. 


r 


i       \jS^ 


ilAUAME  LIND  GOLDSCniUDT. 


JENNTT   LIND   GOLDSCHMIDT.  461 


CHAPTER  XXXV. 

JENirr   LIND   GOLDSCHMIDT. 

There  lived  iu  the  city  of  Stockholm  a  quiet,  almost  humble 
couple,  named  Lind ;  the  husband  taught  languages,  and  the 
wife  kept  a  school  for  children.  They  were  Protestants,  mem- 
bers of  the  Lutheran  Church.  They  had  two  children,  a  pale, 
delicate,  sickly  girl,  named  Jenny,  and  a  boy  named  John. 
Frau  Lind  had  had  another  girl  by  her  first  marriage,  but  lost 
her  by  an  early  death. 

Jenny,  born  October  6,  1821,  was  a  lonely  child:  her  chief 
consolation  was  her  voice,  which  she  Avas  perpetually  exercis- 
ing when  at  work  or  at  her  solitary  play.  At  three  years  old 
singing  was  her  ruling  passion :  every  song  that  she  heard  she 
could  repeat  with  fluency  and  perfect  accuracy,  and  during  her 
frequent  illnesses  she  would  solace  herself  with  some  favorite 
melody.  Thus  she  attained  her  ninth  yeai* — a  shy,  timid,  sick- 
ly child. 

She  then  happened  to  attract  the  notice  of  Frau  Lundberg, 
an  actress,  who  heard  her  sing ;  and,  struck  with  her  inwc,  sil- 
very tones  and  correct  enunciation,  told  Jenny's  parents  of  the 
treasure  they  possessed,  urging  them  to  devote  their  child  to 
the  stage.  Jenny's  mother,  entertaining  the  common  prejudice 
against  theatres,  Avas  at  first  horrified  by  the  idea ;  but  Frau 
Lundberg  succeeded  in  conquering  her  dislike,  and  the  good 
mother  at  last  consented  to  leave  the  decision  of  the  matter  to 
her  child.  The  little  girl  at  once  declared  herself  determined 
to  devote  herself  to  all  the  studies  requisite  to  prepare  herself 
for  the  stage ;  and  she  was  conveyed  by  the  kind  actress  to 
Croelius,  a  music-master  well  known  in  Stockholm. 

This  old  man  became  enthusiastic  about  the  abilities  of  his 
new  pupil,  whom  he  introduced  to  Count  Piicke,  manager  of 
the  Court  Theatre,  requesting  the  count  to  hear  her  and  to 
patronize  her.  Rough  in  speech  and  morbid  in  temjjer,  the 
count  was  not  remarkable  for  a  gentlemanly  reserve :  he  al- 
ways said  exactly  what  he  thought,  and  his  thoughts  were  not 


462  QUEENS   OF   SONG. 

invariably  of  the  kindest  or  most  charitable  nature.  When 
Jenny  was  brought  before  him,  he  regarded  her  slight  figure 
with  astonishment.  "  You  ask  a  foolish  thing,"  said  he,  look- 
ing disdainfully  at  the  gentle,  pale  little  child,  in  her  simple 
gown  of  black  bombazine.  "  What  shall  we  do  with  that  ugly 
creature  ?  See  what  feet  she  has !  and  then  her  face !  She  will 
never  be  presentable.  No,  we  can  not  take  her.  Certainly 
not."  Nothing  daunted,  Croelius  insisted,  almost  indignantly, 
and  at  last  exclaimed,  "  Well,  if  you  will  not  take  her,  I,  poor 
as  I  am,  will  take  her  myself,  and  have  her  educated  for  the 
stage."  The  count  relented,  and  condescended  to  hear  the 
child  sing.  Already  her  voice  possessed  that  heart-searching 
quality  by  which  it  afterward  exercised  so  irresistible  a  spell. 
The  result  was  that  the  plain  little  child  was  admitted  into  the 
school,  and  placed  under  the  care  of  an  able  master,  Herr  Al- 
bert Berg,  director  of  the  singing -school  of  the  Opera,  who 
was  assisted  by  the  composer  Lindblad. 

j  Two  years  later,  when  Jenny  was  eleven,  at  a  comedy  per- 

formed by  the  pupils  of  the  theatre,  several  of  the  audience 
were  struck  by  the  spirit  and  animation  with  which  a  very 
young  pupil  performed  the  part  of  a  beggar-girl  in  the  play. 
This  young  pupil  was  Jenny  Lind,  who  then  began  to  appear 
in  children's  characters,  exciting  a  sensation  similar  to  that 
with  which  Leontine  Fay,  in  her  early  career,  moved  all  Paris. 
Vaudevilles  were  written  expressly  for  her :  the  truth  of  her 
conception,  the  originality  of  her  style,  gained  for  her  the  repu- 
tation of  being  a  prodigy,  while  the  modesty  and  amiabihty  of 
her  demeanor  secured  for  her  love  and  regard. 

When  she  was  twelve,  the  sunny  aspect  of  her  future  was 
suddenly  clouded,  and  her  ambitious  hopes  crushed,  for  her 
voice  began  to  lose  somewhat  of  its  silvery  tone,  and  the  up- 
per notes  vanished.  In  vain  she  tried  to  recover  them.  The 
hope  of  training  her  as  a  singer  for  the  grand  opera  was  there- 

/  fore  abandoned.  She  had  outgrown  her  childish  parts  with- 
out becoming  qualified  for  more  advanced  ones,  and  was  soon 
forgotten  by  the  public  which  had  once  admired  her.  For- 
bidden to  exercise  her  voice,  the  only  consolation  to  the  un- 
happy girl  was  continuing  her  instrumental  and  theoretical 
musical  studies,  to  which  she  devoted  herself  for  the  space  of 
four  years. 

It  happened  toward  the  close  of  this  painful  period  that  a 


JENNY  LIND   GOLDSCHMIDT. 


463 


grand  concert  was  given  at  the  theatre,  and  the  fourth  act  of 
Meyerbeer's  Robert  le  Diahle  formed  the  chief  feature  of  the 
programme.  The  part  of  Alice  in  that  act,  consisting  of  one 
solo  only,  was  very  unpoi^ular  among  the  singers,  and  Herr 
Berg,  remembering  the  unlucky  Jenny,  offered  to  her  the  ob- 
jectionable role.  She  meekly  consented  to  appear,  though  with 
a  nervous  agitation  which  threatened  to  destroy  what  powers 
she  yet  possessed ;  and  with  a  heart  palpitating  with  mingled 
hope  and  foreboding,  she  began  to  study  her  part.  On  the 
evening  of  the  concert,  she  presented  herself  almost  unnoticed. 
She  was  in  a  state  of  nervous  excitement  and  trepidation,' 
though  nobody  noticed  the  obscure  singer  who  took  the  de- 
spised character  of  Alice.  But  when  she  sang  the  air  allotted 
to  her,  it  seemed  as  if  a  miracle  had  been  wrought  in  her  fa- 
vor, for  every  note  of  her  register  had  recovered  its  beauty  and 
sweetness.  A  burst  of  applause  saluted  her :  every  eye  was 
directed  toward  her,  and  the  young  vocalist  became  the  hero- 
ine of  the  evening.  No  one  was  more  astonished  than  Berg, 
who  the  next  day  informed  Jenny  that  she  was  considered 
qualified  to  undertake  the  role  of  Agatha,  in  Weber's  Der 
Freisckutz. 

Toward  this  character  the  secret  ambition  of  Jenny  Lind 
had  long  yearned,  for  it  was  the  one  which  first  awakened  her 
artistic  sympathies.  To  study  it  deeply  had  been  with  her  a 
labor  of  love,  and  she  looked  forward  with  joy  to  be  able  to 
represent  it  worthily  one  day.  Her  discouragements  and  dis- 
appointments were  now  all  forgotten,  and  the  dream  of  her 
hopes  seemed  to  be  at  length  realized.  At  the  rehearsal  pre- 
ceding the  representation  of  the  evening,  she  sang  in  such  a 
manner  that  the  members  of  the  orchestra  laid  down  their  in- 
struments and  clapped  their  hands  with  rapturous  applause. 
"I  saw  her  at  the  evening  representation,"  says  Fredcrika 
Bremer.  "  She  was  then  in  the  spring  of  life,  fresh,  bright, 
and  serene  as  a  morning  in  May ;  perfect  in  form ;  her  hands 
and  her  arms  peculiarly  graceful,  and  lovely  in  her  whole  ap- 
pearance. She  seemed  to  move,  speak,  and  sing  without  eflbrt 
or  art.  All  was  nature  and  harmony.  Her  singing  was  dis- 
tinguished especially  by  its  purity,  and  the  power  of  soul  which 
seemed  to  swell  in  her  tones.  Her  '  mezzo  voice'  was  delight- 
ful. In  the  night -scene  where  Agatha,  seeing  her  lover  com- 
ing, breathes  out  her  joy  in  rapturous  song,  our  young  singer, 


\ 


\ 


464  QUEENS   OF   SONG. 

on  tuniiuo-  from  the  winclow  at  the  back  of  the  stagre  to  the 
spectators  again,  was  pale  for  joy;  and  in  that  pale  joyousness 
she  sang  Avith  a  burst  of  outflowing  love  and  life,  that  called 
forth,  not  the  mirth,  but  the  tears  of  the  auditors." 

Jenny  Liud  has  always  regarded  the  character  of  Agatha 
as  the  keystone  of  her  fame.  From  the  night  of  this  perform- 
ance she  was  the  declared  favorite  of  the  Swedish  public,  and 
continued  for  a  year  and  a  half  the  star  of  the  Opera  of  Stock- 
holm, performing  in  Euryanthe,  Robert  le  Diahle,  La  Vestale 
of  Spontiui,  and  other  operas.  She  labored  meanwhile  with 
indefatigable  industiy  to  remedy  certain  natural  deficiencies 
in  her  voice.  Always  jDure  and  melodious  in  tone,  it  was  orig- 
inally wanting  in  elasticity.  She  could  neither  hold  her  notes 
to  any  considerable  extent,  nor  increase  nor  diminish  their  vol- 
ume with  sufiicient  effect;  and  she  could  scarcely  utter  the 
slightest  cadence.  But,  undaunted  by  difficulties,  she  perse- 
vered, and  ultimately  achieved  that  brilliant  and  facile  execu- 
tion which,  it  is  difficult  to  believe,  was  partially  denied  her 
by  nature. 

Gradually,  however,  to  the  surprise  and  alarm  of  the  young 
girl,  her  voice,  overstrained  and  exhausted,  lost  somewhat  of 
its  freshness.  The  public,  who  no  longer  sought  to  hear  her 
for  the  sake  of  novelty,  came  no  more  to  the  theatre  even 
when  she  sang  delightfully  as  Pamina  {Die  Zauheiflote)^  or  as 
Anna'Bolena;  in  short,  the  Opera  was  almost  deserted.  Jen- 
ny Lind's  voice  had  need  of  farther  training,  and  she  felt  the 
necessity  of  higher  teaching  than  she  could  obtain  in  her  na- 
tive city.  She  desired,  also,  to  be  enabled  to  behold  those 
great  artistes  whom  she  had  heard  praised  so  much ;  and  her 
anxious  wish  was  to  become  the  pupil  of  Garcia,  who  had 
formed  so  many  eminent  singers.  A  formidable  money  diffi- 
culty presented  itself — that  stumbling-block  which  impedes  so 
many  artists  in  pursuit  of  ideal  perfection :  the  difficulty  of 
defraying  the  expenses  of  her  journey,  and  of  her  residence  in 
France,  seemed  an  insuperable  bar  to  the  realization  of  her 
wishes.  She  resolved  to  trust  to  her  own  resources  alone; 
accordingly,  during  the  recess  when  the  Opera  was  closed, 
accompanied  by  her  father,  she  visited  the  principal  towns  of 
Sweden  and  Norway,  giving  concerts,  and  thus  amassed  a 
fund  adequate  to  her  probable  necessities.  Having  obtained 
leave  of  absence  from  the  manager  of  the  Opera  in  Stockholm, 


JENNY    LIND    GOLDSCHMIDT.  465 

and  bade  fai'ewell  to  her  parents,  whose  avocations  did  not 
permit  thera  to  accompany  her,  she  started  alone  for  Paris, 
full  of  enthusiasm  for  her  art,  and  eagerly  anticipating  a  suc- 
cessful course  of  study. 

Arrived  in  Paris,  her  first  visit  was  to  Garcia,  to  whom  she 
presented  her  letters  of  introduction.  Garcia  gave  her  a  kind 
reception,  and  listened,  Avithout  a  word  or  gesture,  to  her  sing- 
ing. When,  fluttered  Avith  feverish  anxiety,  she  awaited  his 
dictum,  he  said,  calmly,  "  My  good  girl,  you  have  no  voice ; 
or,  I  should  rather  say,  that  you  had  a  voice,  but  are  now  on 
the  point  of  losing  it.  Your  organ  is  strained  and  worn  out ; 
and  the  only  advice  I  can  offer  you  is  to  recommend  you  not 
to  sing  a  note  for  three  months.  At  the  end  of  that  time  come 
to  me  again,  and  I  will  do  my  best  for  you."  Poor  Jenny  de- 
parted in  the  deepest  dejection,  and  passed  the  three  weari- 
some months  in  the  strictest  retirement.  "I  lived  on  my 
tears  and  on  the  recollection  of  my  home,"  she  herself  said, 
pathetically.  At  the  expiration  of  three  months  of  solitude 
and  silence,  she  paid  her  second  visit  to  Garcia,  who  pro- 
nounced her  voice  greatly  improved,  and  susceptible  of  con- 
tinued culture.  Although  she  profited  immensely  by  the  teach- 
ing of  this  great  master,  and  composed  cadences  and  ornaments 
which  he  himself  considered  worthy  of  copying,  yet  he  never 
anticipated  for  his  young  Swedish  pupil  any  particular  distinc- 
tion in  the  musical  world.  Jenny  Lind  has  frequently  remarked 
that,  next  to  herself,  Garcia  was  the  person  who,  of  all  others, 
would  have  been  most  surprised  at  her  triumphs  had  he  lived 
to  witness  them. 

At  this  period  Garcia  was  teaching  a  countrywoman  of 
Jenny's,  a  Mdlle.  Nissen,  who  possessed  a  very  powerful,  full- 
toned  voice,  but  lacked  mental  abilities.  Jenny  Lind  confess- 
ed that  it  often  brought  her  to  despair  to  hear  Garcia  hold  up 
this  lady  to  her  as  an  example,  while  she  felt  that  she  under- 
stood more,  and  was  pursuing  loftier  aims,  than  would  ever  be 
attained  by  her  sister  student.  Garcia  was  wont  to  say,  "  K 
Jenny  Lind  had  the  voice  of  Nissen,  or  the  latter  Lind's  intel- 
ligence, one  of  tliem  would  become  the  greatest  singer  in  Eu- 
rope. If  Lind  had  more  voice  at  her  disposal,  nothing  would 
prevent  her  from  becoming  the  greatest  of  modern  singers ; 
but  as  it  is,"  he  would  add,  "  she  must  be  content  with  sing- 
ing second  to  many  who  will  not  have  half  her  genius." 
30  U  2 


466  QUEENS   OP   SONG. 

The  following  year,  a  Swedisli  composer  was  sent  to  Paris 
in  order  to  summon  the  young  singer  home  to  resume  her  sta- 
tion at  the  Opera  in  Stockholm.  By  this  gentLmau  she  was 
introduced  to  Meyerbeer,  and  the  well-practiced  judgment  of 
the  composer  oiMohert  leDiaUe  soon  recognized  the  pearl  of 
great  price.  His  only  doubt  was  whether  the  flutelike  jDurity 
of  her  delicate  organ  w'ould  be  sufficiently  telling  in  a  large 
space.  To  test  this,  he  arranged  a  rehearsal  with  a  full  or- 
chestra, in  the  salon  of  the  Grand  Opera,  when  Jenny  Lind 
sang  the  three  great  scenes  from  Robert  le  Diahle,  Norma^ 
and  Der Freisckiltz.  Her  success  was  triumphant ;  but,  through 
the  jealousy  of  a  jDOwerful  prima  donna,  M.Leon  Fillet  was  dis- 
suaded from  engaging  the  young  Swede. 

Shortly  after,  in  the  spring  of  1843,  Jenny  Lind  reappeared 
in  her  native  city  in  Robert  le  Diable,  w^here  she  reaped  the 
rich  reward  of  her  persevering  efforts.  Her  voice  had  ac- 
quired astonishing  flexibility  and  strength  ;  she  could  warble 
like  a  nightingale;  her  tones  were  fresh,  beautiful,  and  clear; 
she  had  become  a  perfect  mistress  of  her  art,  and  was  an  excel- 
lent actress.  The  good  j)eople  of  Stockholm  received  her  with 
a  rapturous  welcome. 

At  this  time  Jenny  Lind  was  perfectly,  unknown  out  of  her 
native  country.    Many  entreaties  had  been  addressed  to  her 
to  appear  at  Copenhagen ;  but  the  idea  of  making  a  debut  in 
/    that  city  frightened  her :  she  expressed  the  greatest  dread  of 
f'     accepting  the  ofiers  of  the  Danish  manager.     "I  have  never 
made  my  appearance  out  of  Sweden,"  she  observed ;  "  every 
body  in  my  native  land  is  so  affectionate  and  kind  to  me,  and 
if  I  made  my  appearance  in  Copenhagen,  and  should  be  hissed ! 
I  dare  not  venture  on  it!"     However,  the  temptations  held 
out  to  her,  and  the  entreaties  of  Burnonville,  the  ballet-master 
of  Copenhagen,  who  had  married  a  Swedish  friend  of  Jenny 
Liud's,  at  last  prevailed  over  the  nervous  apprehensions  of  the 
young  singer,  and  Jenny  made  her  first  ajDpearance  in  Copen- 
hagen as  Alice,  in  Robert  le  Diable.     "  It  was  like  a  new  reve- 
lation in  the  realms  of  art,"  says  Andersen  {Story  of  my  Life) ; 
"  the  youthful  fresh  voice  forced  itself  into  every  heart :  here 
reigned  truth  and  nature ;  and  every  thing  was  full  of  mean- 
inor  and  intelligence.    At  one  concert  she  sang  her  Swedish 
songs.     There  was  something  so  peculiar  in  this,  so  bewitch- 
ing, people  thought  nothing  about  the  concert-room ;  the  pop- 


I 


JEXNY   LIND   GOLDSCHMIDT.  467 

ular  melodies  uttered  by  a  being  so  purely  feminine,  and  bear- 
ing the  universal  stamp  of  genius,  exercised  the  omnipotent 
sway — the  whole  of  Copenhagen  was  in  a  rapture."  Jenny 
Lind  was  the  first  singer  to  whom  the  Danish  students  gave 
a  serenade;  torches  blazed  around  the  hospitable  villa  where 
the  serenade  was  given,  and  she  expressed  her  thanks  by  again 
singing  some  Swedish  airs  impromptu.  "I  saw  her  hasten 
into  a  dark  corner  and  weep  for  emotion,"  says  Andersen. 
" '  Yes,  yes,'  said  she,  '  I  will  exert  myself;  I  will  endeavor ; 
I  will  be  better  qualified  than  I  now  am  when  I  again  come 
to  Copenhagen.' " 

"  On  the  stage,"  adds  Andersen,  "  she  was  the  great  artist 
who  rose  above  all  those  around  her ;  at  home,  in  her  own 
chamber,  a  sensitive  young  girl  with  all  the  humility  and  piety 
of  a  child.  Her  appearance  in  Copenhagen  made  an  epoch  in 
the  history  of  our  opera;  it  showed  me  art  in  its  sanctity:  I 
had  beheld  one  of  its  vestals." 

Jenny  Lind  was  one  of  the  few  who  regard  Art  as  a  sacred 
vocation.  "Speak  to  her  of  her  art,"  says  Frederika  Bremer, 
"  and  you  will  wonder  at  the  expansion  of  her  mind,  and  will 
see  her  countenance  beaming  with  inspiration.  Converse  then 
with  her  of  God,  and  of  the  holiness  of  religion,  and  you  will 
see  tears  in  those  innocent  eyes :  she  is  great  as  an  artist,  but 
she  is  still  greater  in  her  pure  human  existence !" 

"  She  loves  Art  with  her  whole  soul,"  observes  Andersen, 
"  and  feels  her  vocation  in  it.  A  noble,  pious  disposition  like 
hers  can  not  be  spoiled  by  homage.  On  one  occasion  only  did 
I  hear  her  express  her  joy  in  her  talent  and  her  self-conscious- 
ness. It  was  during  her  last  residence  in  Copenhagen.  Al- 
most every  evening  she  appeared  either  in  the  opera  or  at  con- 
certs ;  every  hour  was  in  requisition.  She  heard  of  a  society, 
the  object  of  which  was  to  assist  unfortunate  children,  and  to 
take  them  out  of  the  hands  of  their  parents,  by  whom  they 
were  misused  and  compelled  cither  to  beg  or  steal,  and  to 
place  them  in  other  and  better  circumstances.  Benevolent 
people  subscribed  annually  a  small  sum  each  for  their  support; 
nevertheless,  the  means  for  this  excellent  purpose  were  very 
limited.  'But  have  I  not  still  a  disengaged  evening?'  said 
she;  'let  me  give  a  night's  performance  for  the  benefit  of 
those  jioor  children  :  but  we  will  have  double  prices !'  Such  a 
performance  was  given,  and  returned  large  proceeds.    When 


468  QUEENS   OF   SONG. 

she  was  informed  of  this,  and  that,  by  this  means,  a  number 
of  poor  children  Avould  be  benefited  for  several  years,  her  coun- 
tenance beamed,  and  the  tears  filled  her  eyes.  '  It  is,  however, 
beautiful,'  said  she,  '  that  I  can  sing  so.' " 

From  Copenhagen  Jenny  Lind  returned  to  Stockholm,  where 
she  was  received  most  flatteringly  by  her  countrymen,  although 
it  was  the  wish  of  her  admirers  and  friends  that  she  should  re- 
main in  Sweden.  But  Jenny  was  desirous  of  extending  her 
reputation,  and  she  wrote  to  Meyerbeer,  asking  him  to  obtain 
for  her  an  engagement  at  Berlin.  The  kind-hearted  composer, 
who  had  admired  her  so  much  at  Paris,  and  who  w^as  pleased 
to  be  able  to  show  his  interest,  answered  her  letter  in  less  than 
a  week,  ofiering  her  the  position  of  second  soprano  at  the  The- 
atre Royal.  Jenny  accepted  it,  bade  her  parents  farewell  once 
more,  and  departed  for  Berlin  in  1843.  Her  deiDarture  was  a 
scene  of  triumph,  and  the  streets  were  crowded  with  thousands 
of  persons  to  bid  her  adieu. 

At  Berlin  Jenny  made  no  sensation  at  first.  She  appeared 
in  secondary  characters,  Mdlle.  Nissen  being  the  prima  donna. 
Adalgisa,  in  JVbrma,  was  the  best  of  those  with  which  she  was 
favored.  She  was  noticed  very  slightly  by  the  critics ;  some 
said  she  was  a  tolerable  actress,  others  that  she  had  a  culti- 
vated voice,  but  no  power.  She,  however,  became  a  favorite 
with  the  manager  and  with  her  comrades,  from  her  industry, 
her  modesty,  her  amiability,  and  good  temper.  One  evening, 
when  she  had  been  at  the  theatre  some  four  months,  there  was 
a  large  concert  given  in  behalf  of  some  charity.  The  fourth 
act  oiMohert  le  Dlahle  was  announced,  and  again,  by  a  strange 
coincidence,  the  solo  of  Alice  was  assigned  to  Jenny.  Again 
a  spell  was  wrought :  she  electrified  the  audience  by  the  man- 
ner in  which  she  sang  the  few  bars  of  this  despised  air.  As 
her  notes  rang  full  and  clear  through  the  theatre,  the  wings 
filled  with  listeners,  and  when  she  ceased,  the  entranced  audi- 
ence broke  into  a  long  and  continued  tempest  of  applause. 

The  genius  of  Jenny  Lind  was  now  revealed  to  the  Berlin- 
ese,  and  for  four  months  she  was  their  idol.  At  the  end  of 
1843,  M.  Belinaye  went  to  Berlin,  and,  through  the  medium 
of  Lord  Westmoreland,  was  presented  to  the  young  singer, 
and  ofiered  her  terms  from  Mr.  Lumley ;  but  no  engagement 
was  entered  into. 

In  August,  1844,  she  went  to  Dresden,    Meyerbeer  was  then 


JENNY   LIND   GOLDSC.IMIDT.  469 

writing  his  Camp  of  Siksia^  and  lie  offered  Jenny  Lind  the 
first  part,  Vielka.  She  knew  nothing  then  of  the  German  lan- 
guage ;  but  two  months  of  application  enabled  her  to  speak  it 
with  purity.  The  characters  which  she  sustained  during  her 
stay  in  Dresden  were,  in  addition  to  Vielka,  Norma,  Amina, 
and  Maria  in  La  Figlia  del  Reggimento. 

At  the  request  of  the  manager  of  Stockholm,  however,  she 
returned  to  her  native  city,  to  assist  at  the  coronation  of  the 
King  of  Sweden,  With  each  performance  her  fame  extended 
more  widely:  throughout  all  the  districts  of  Germany,  and  far 
beyond  its  bounds,  her  reputation  spread,  and  the  managers  of 
London  and  Paris  vied  in  strivinfj  to  win  the  Northern  sonsr- 
stress.  From  Stockholm  she  made  a  tour  through  Vienna, 
Berlin,  Copenhagen,  and  other  cities ;  in  Hamburg  a  silver 
laurel-wreath  was  presented  to  her  on  her  departure,  and  her 
entire  journey  was  a  constant  succession  of  triumphs.  During 
tl.>e  following  summer  she  was  invited  to  the  fetes  on  the 
Rhine,  given  by  the  King  of  Prussia  in  honor  of  our  queen; 
she  also  visited  Frankfort  and  Cologne.  The  Countess  of 
Rossi  (Henrietta  Sontag)  pronounced  her  to  be  the  first  sing- 
er of  her  time. 

From  November,  1845,  till  the  end  of  March,  1846,  she  ful- 
filled her  engagement  for  five  months  at  the  Theatre  Royal, 
Berlin.  She  then  proceeded  to  Vienna,  where  she  made  her 
debut  as  Norma,  April  22,  in  the  Theater  an  der  Wicn.  The 
reports  which  had  preceded  her,  the  exaggeration  of  the  so- 
called  Lind -enthusiasts,  and  the  unprecedcntedly  high  prices 
of  admission,  had  raised  to  such  a  degree  the  anticipations  of 
the  public,  that  Jenny  Lind  expressed  her  doubt  of  succeed- 
ing, and  declared  that,  but  for  having  given  her  word,  she 
would  not  consent  to  perform  at  all.  With  visible  nervous- 
ness, with  the  elevation  and  dignity  of  a  priestess,  but  yet  with 
a  feeling  of  humbleness,  she  ascended  the  Druid  altar,  and, 
amid  a  silence  of  hushed  expectation,  commenced  to  sing. 
Scarcely  had  her  tones  resounded  than  the  whole  house  burst 
into  one  simultaneous  cheer,  decisive  of  her  success  in  Vienna. 

Soon  after  this  she  returned  to  her  native  city,  and  then  re- 
appeared in  Berlin.  She  received  a  liberal  offer  of  an  engage- 
ment with  Mr.  Bunn,  manager  of  Drury  Lane  Theatre,  and 
an  agreement  was  signed  in  presence  of  Lord  Westmoreland 
(British  minister  at  Berlin)  and  M.  Meyerbeer.     M.  Belinaye 


470  QiCJEEiSrs  OF  so: 


just  then  renewed  Mr.  Lumley's  offers  f  am.  Jenny  Lind,  being 
now  better  acquainted  Avith  the  management  of  the  London 
theatres,  found  that  she  had  made  a  great  mistake  in  consent- 
ing to  make  her  debut  in  London  at  Drury  Lane.  She  there- 
fore wished  to  break  off  her  engagement  with  Mr.  Bunn,  and 
volunteered  to  pay  him  £2000  on  receiving  the  paper  signed 
by  her.  Mr.  Bunn  at  first  refused ;  but  the  dispute  was  finally 
settled  February  22,  1848,  by  his  being  awarded  £2500  dam- 
ages in  a  court  of  justice. 

So  enthusiastic  were  the  people  of  Berlin,  that  on  the  close 
of  her  engagement  the  manager  was  obliged  to  re-engage  her, 
at  the  rate  (it  is  said)  of  £4000  per  annum,  with  two  months 
of  conge.  The  "  enthusiasm"  was  almost  beyond  conception. 
The  difficulty  of  gaining  admission  into  the  theatre,  even  Avhen 
she  had  appeared  upward  of  a  hundred  nights,  was  so  great, 
that  it  was  found  necessary,  in  order  to  prevent  the  practice 
of  jobbing  in  tickets,  which  was  becoming  very  prevalent,  to 
issue  them  according  to  the  following  directions,  which  were 
put  forth  by  the  manager:  "Tickets  must  be  applied  for  on 
the  day  preceding  that  for  which  they  are  required,  by  letter, 
signed  with  the  applicant's  proper  and  Christian  name,  pro- 
fession, and  place  of  abode,  and  sealed  with  wax,  bearing  the 
writer's  initials  with  his  arms.  No  more  than  one  ticket  can 
be  granted  to  the  same  person ;  and  no  person  is  entitled  to 
apply  for  two  consecutive  nights  of  the  enchantress's  perform- 


ance." 


In  June,  1846,  Mdlle.  Lind  was  i^rincipal  vocalist  of  the 
Niederheinische  Musicfest,  held  at  Aix-la-Chapelle,  Mendels- 
sohn being  the  conductor.  He  was  delighted  with  her,  and 
thus  expressed  his  opinion  of  her:  "There  will  not  in  a  whole 
century  be  born  another  being  so  largely  gifted  as  Jenny  Lind." 

At  this  period  Jenny  Lind  received  a  profusion  of  offers  of 
engagements.  It  is  said  that  his  majesty  the  Czar  offered  her 
as  much  as  56,000  francs  per  month,  for  five  months,  making 
in  all  about  £11,200  sterling — a  sum  unparalleled  in  musical 
history. 

She  appeared  the  following  September  at  Frankfort,  where 
triumphant  success  awaited  her.  The  enthusiasm  and  excite- 
ment were  unprecedented.  "  Dine  where  you  would,"  said  a 
correspondent  of  the  Athenceum,  "you  heard  of  Jenny  Lind — 
when  she  was  coming — what  she  would  sing — how  ranch  be 


JEiraTT   LIND   GOLDSCHMIDT.  471 

paid — who  had  got  places — and  the  like ;  so  that,  what  with 
the  exigeant  English  dilettanti  flying  at  puzzled  German  land- 
lords with  all  manner  of  Babylonish  protestations  of  disap- 
pointment and  uncertainty,  and  native  High  Ponderosities 
ready  to  trot  in  the  train  of  the  enchantress  where  she  might 
please  to  lead,  with  here  and  there  a  dark-browed  Italian  pri- 
ma donna  lowering,  Medea-like,  in  the  background,  and  look- 
ine:  da^srers  whenever  the  name  '  Questa Linda !'  was  uttered — 
nothing,  I  repeat,  can  be  compared  to  the  universal  excitement, 
save  certain  passages  ('  green  spots'  in  the  memory  of  many  a 
dowager  Berliner)  when  enthusiasts  rushed  to  drink  Cham- 
pagne out  of  Sontag's  shoe In  Za  Figlia  del  Beggimento^ 

compared  with  the  exhibitions  of  her  sister  songstresses  now 
on  the  German  stage,  Mdllc.  Liud's  personation  was  like  a 
piece  of  porcelain  beside  tawdry  daubings  on  crockery." 

Mdlle.  Lind  then  reappeared  in  Vienna,  where  she  was  re- 
ceived with  the  same  enthusiastic  delight.  She  was  treated 
with  marked  attention  by  the  empress  and  the  Archduchess 
Maria.  The  sensation  caused  previous  to  her  departure  for 
England  was  extraordinary;  and  during  her  last  performances 
at  the  great  theatres,  the  stalls,  ordinarily  sold  at  two  florins, 
rose  to  fifty ;  yet  three  thousand  persons  were  unable  to  pro- 
cure admission.  The  last  night,  not  content  with  calling  her 
forward  innumerable  times,  with  plaudits,  cheers,  and  deafen- 
ing shouts,  the  audience  joined  the  crowd  Avhich  attended  her 
home.  Thirty  times  she  was  summoned  to  her  window,  and 
the  crowd  cried  urgently,  "Jenny  Lind,  say  you  will  come 
back  again !"  At  length  Jenny  Lind,  bathed  in  tears,  took 
asunder  the  heaped  bouquets  lying  on  her  table,  and  scattered 
from  the  balcony  the  separated  flowers,  which  were  snatched 
up  by  the  eager  crowd. 

Her  departure  from  Stockholm  for  London  was  signalized 
by  a  demonstration  most  muisual  for  so  cold  a  people  as  the 
Swedes.  Between  fifteen  and  twenty  thousand  persons  were 
assembled  on  the  quay  to  take  leave  of  their  beloved  country- 
woman ;  military  bands  were  stationed  at  intervals,  and  she 
embarked  amid  cheers,  music,  good  wishes,  and  sobbing  adicux. 
The  rigging  of  the  vessels  in  the  harbor  was  manned,  and  the 
hurrahs  and  waving  of  handkerchiefs  continued  as  long  as  the 
steamer  which  bore  her  away  was  in  sight.  Her  last  pei-form- 
ance  in  her  native  city  was  in  aid  of  the  funds  of  a  charitable 


472  QUEENS   OF   SONG. 

institution  she  had  founded,  and  the  tickets  of  admission  on 
this  occasion  were  sold  at  immense  prices  by  auction. 

Mdlle.  Lind  arrived  in  London  April  17,  1847.  Her  first 
days  were  passed  with  her  friend  Mrs.  Grote,  wife  of  the  his- 
torian and  member  of  Parliment ;  but  she  subsequently  took 
a  furnished  house  at  Brompton,  where  she  lived  in  strict  se- 
clusion from  society  during  her  engagement. 

One  of  the  first  who  heard  the  Nightingale  was  Lablache. 
The  mighty  basso  was  in  raptures  with  her  voice ;  every  note, 
he  said,  "  was  like  a  pearl."  This  comparison  quite  took  the 
fancy  of  Jenny,  and  one  morning,  during  rehearsal  at  Her  Maj- 
esty's Theatre,  she  tripped  up  to  the  great  Italian,  and  politely 
asked  him  to  lend  her  his  hat.  He  readily  complied,  though 
surprised  at  the  oddity  of  such  a  request.  She  took  the  hat 
with  a  graceful  courtesy,  and  retired  to  a  distant  part  of  the 
stage,  where  she  commenced  singing  a  French  air  with  her 
lips  to  the  edge  of  the  broad-brimmed  chajDcau.  Having  con- 
cluded her  performance,  she  returned  to  Lablache,  and  ordered 
him  to  fall  on  bended  knee,  as  she  had  a  valuable  j^resent  for 
him,  returning  him  his  hat,  with  the  declaration  that  she  had 
made  him  exceedingly  rich,  according  to  his  own  showing,  in- 
somuch as  she  was  giving  him  a  hatful  of  "pearls."  Her  sim- 
plicity and  innocent  gayety  delighted  all,  and  as  for  Lablache, 
he  could  scarcely  have  been  more  gratified  if  she  had  filled  his 
hat  with  diamonds. 

Jenny  Lind's  debut  took  place  on  the  4th  of  May.  The  op- 
era was  Robert  le  Diahle,  thus  cast :  Robert,  Fraschini ;  Raim- 
baud,  Gardoni ;  Bertram,  Staudigl ;  Isabelle,  Madame  Castel- 
lan ;  Alice,  Mdlle.  Jenny  Lind.  The  house  was  crowded  to 
sufibcation.  The  queen.  Prince  Albert,  and  numbers  of  emi- 
nent personages  were  present.  The  accounts  of  the  debu- 
tante's brilliant  triumphs  in  Germany,  and  the  extraordinary 
enthusiasm  which  she  had  every  where  created,  had  rendered 
the  musical  world  most  anxious  to  see  and  hear  her.  She  had 
been  the  subject  of  conversation  in  all  circles ;  her  name  was 
in  every  body's  mouth  ere  she  set  foot  on  the  English  shore. 
Always,  at  the  commencement  of  an  opera,  Mdlle.  Lind  suf- 
fered from  a  nervousness  which  she  only  mastered  in  the 
course  of  performance.  Before  the  opera  began  a  shudder 
would  seize  her;  she  stepped  falteringly  on  the  stage,  and 
sang  her  first  notes  timidly,  only  conquering  her  agitation  by 


JEIsTNY   LIND   GOLDSCHMIDT.  473 

degrees.  How,  then,  must  she  have  felt  on  this  all-important 
evening? 

"  The  curtain  went  up,  the  opera  began,  the  cheers  resound- 
ed, deep  silence  followed,"  says  a  writer  in  the  JIusical  World, 
"  and  the  cause  of  all  the  excitement  was  before  us.  It  open- 
ed its  lips,  and  emitted  sounds.  The  sounds  it  emitted  were 
right  pleasing,  honey-sweet,  and  silver-toned.  With  all  this 
there  was,  besides,  a  quietude  that  we  had  not  marked  before, 
and  a  something  that  hovered  about  the  object,  as  an  unseen 
grace  that  was  attired  in  a  veil  of  innocence,  transparent  as 
the  thin  surface  of  a  bubble,  disclosing  all,  and  making  its  own 
presence  rather  felt  than  seen." 

The  appearance  of  Jenny  Lind  in  her  pilgrim's  garb  was  the 
signal  for  an  enthusiastic  outburst  of  applause.  The  delicious 
sustained  notes  which  commenced  her  first  cavatina.  Vet,  dit- 
elle,  full,  clear,  and  bell-like,  then  dying  oflE"  into  the  faintest 
whisper,  were  exquisite :  they  were  followed  by  thunders  of 
applause,  above  which  rose  the  stentorian  brava  of  Lablache, 
who  was  sitting  in  his  box  enraptured.  Each  verse  of  the 
charming  little  romance,  Quand  je  quitted  la  Normandiey  was 
encored.  "  At  the  conclusion  of  the  last  she  gave  the  roulade, 
dpleine  voix,  limpid  and  deliciously  sweet,  and  finished  with  a 
shake  so  delicate,  so  softly  executed,  that  each  one  held  his 
breath  to  listen,  and  the  torrent  of  applause  at  the  end  bafilcd 
description."  At  the  conclusion  of  the  opera,  Jenny  Lind  was 
called  before  the  curtain  three  distinct  times,  shouts,  Avaving 
of  hats  and  handkerchiefs,  every  sign  of  rapturous  delight  be- 
ing displayed  by  the  audience. 

Ilcr  performance,  both  dramatic  and  vocal,  transcended  the 
most  highly-wrought  expectations.  Combining  the  rustic  sim- 
plicity of  the  lowborn  maiden  Avith  the  lofty  purity  of  her  holy 
mission,  Jenny  Lind's  Alice  was  a  sublime  as  well  as  a  cap- 
tivating creation,  while  she  showed  every  quality  of  vocal 
art  —  a  voice  whose  tone  penetrated  .to  every  heart,  style 
and  execution  the  most  exquisitely  finished,  and  those  pow- 
ers of  expression  which  render  music  the  most  eloquent  lan- 
guage of  sentiment  and  passion.  Her  voice,  a  high  soprano, 
neither  powerful  nor  of  great  compass,  possessed  much  suavi- 
ty and  delicious  lightness,  and  was  singularly  brilliant,  clear, 
and  silvery  in  the  upper  register,  though  a  little  throaty  in  the 
middle. 


474  QUEENS   OF   SONG. 

"  It  is  "vranting  in  that  roundness  and  mellowness  which  be- 
longs to  organs  of  the  South,"  observes  a  very  able  musical 
critic.  "  When  forced,  it  has  by  no  means  an  agreeable  sound, 
and  falls  hard  and  grating  on  the  ears.  It  is  evident  that,  in 
the  greater  part  of  its  range,  acquired  by  much  perseverance 
and  study,  Nature  has  not  been  bountiful  to  the  Swedish  night- 
ingale in  an  extraordinary  degree.  But  art  and  energy  have 
supplied  the  defects  of  nature.  Perhaps  no  artiste,  if  we  ex- 
cept Pasta,  ever  deserved  more  praise  than  Jenny  Lind  for 
what  she  has  worked  out  of  bad  materials.  From  an  organ 
neither  naturally  sweet  nor  powerful,  she  has  elaborated  a 
voice  capable  of  producing  the  most  vivid  sensations.  In  her 
mezzo-Yoce  singing  scarcely  any  vocalist  we  ever  heard  can  be 
compared  to  her.  The  most  delicate  notes,  given  with  the 
most  perfect  intonation,  captivate  the  hearers,  and  throw  them 
into  ecstasies  of  delight.  This  is  undoubtedly  the  great  charm 
of  Jenny  Lind's  singing,  and  in  this  respect  we  subscribe  our- 
selves among  her  most  enthusiastic  admirers.  .  .  .  She  sustains 
a  C  or  D  in  alt  with  unerring  intonation  and  surprising  power. 
These  are  attained  Avithout  an  effort,  and  constitute  another 
charm  of  the  Nio-htinacale's  sino^ine:. 

"  In  pathetic  music  Jenny  Lind's  voice  is  heard  to  much  ad- 
vantage. Indeed,  her  vocal  jDowers  seem  best  adapted  to  dem- 
onstrate the  more  gentle  and  touching  emotions.  For  this 
reason  her  solo  singing  is  almost  that  alone  in  which  she  makes 
any  extraordinary  impression.  In  ensemble  singing,  excepting 
in  the  piano^  her  voice,  being  forced  beyond  its  natural  pow- 
ers, loses  all  its  beauty  and  peculiar  charm,  and  becomes,  in 
short,  often  disagreeable.  .  .  .  Her  voice,  with  all  its  charm,  is 
of  a  special  quality,  and  in  its  best  essays  is  restricted  to  a  par- 
ticular class  of  lyrical  compositions.  .  .  .  As  a  vocalist,  Jenny 
Lind  is  entitled  to  very  high,  if  not  the  highest  commendation. 
Her  perseverance  and  indomitable  energy,  joined  to  her  mu- 
sical ability,  have  tended  to  render  her  voice  as  capable  and 
flexible  as  a  violin.  Although  she  never  indulges  in  the  bril- 
liant flights  of  fancy  of  Persiani,  nor  soars  into  the  loftiest  re- 
gions offioriture  with  that  most  wonderful  of  all  singers,  her 
powers  of  execution  are  very  great,  and  the  delicate  taste 
with  which  the  most  florid  passages  are  given,  the  perfect  in- 
tonation of  the  voice,  and  its  general  charm,  have  already  pro- 
duced a  most  decided  impression  on  the  public  mind.     By  the 


JENNY   LIND   GOLDSCHMIDT.  475 

musician,  Persiani  will  be  always  more  admired,  but  Jenny 
Lind  will  strike  the  general  hearer  more." 

Another  critic  thus  speaks  of  Jenny  Lind's  voice.  "  Her 
voice  is  a  pure  soprano — of  the  fullest  compass  belonging  to 
voices  of  this  class,  and  of  such  evenness  of  tone  that  the  nicest 
ear  can  discover  no  diflference  of  quality  from  the  bottom  to 
the  summit  of  the  scale.  In  the  great  extent  between  A  be- 
low the  lines  and  D  in  alt,  she  executes  every  description  of 
passage,  whether  consisting  of  notes  '  in  linked  sweetness  long 
drawn  out,'  or  of  the  most  rapid  flights  and  fioriture,  with 
equal  facility  and  perfection.  Her  lowest  notes  come  out  as 
clear  and  ringing  as  the  highest,  and  her  highest  are  as  soft 
and  sweet  as  the  lowest.  Her  tones  are  never  mufiled  or  in- 
distinct, nor  do  they  ever  ofiend  the  ear  by  the  slightest  tinge 
of  shrillness :  mellow  roundness  distinguishes  every  sound  she 
utters.  As  she  never  strains  her  voice,  it  never  seems  to  be 
loud;  and  hence  some  one  who  busied  themselves  in  anticipa- 
tory depreciation  said  that  it  would  be  found  to  fail  in  power, 
a  mistake  of  which  every  body  was  convinced  who  observed 
how  it  filled  the  ear,  and  how  distinctly  every  inflection  was 
heard  through  the  fullest  harmony  of  the  orchestra.  The  same 
clearness  was  observable  in  her  pianissimo.  When,  in  her  beau- 
tiful closes,  she  prolonged  a  tone,  attenuated  it  by  degrees,  and 
falling  gently  upon  the  final  note,  the  sound,  though  as  ethereal 
as  the  sighing  of  a  breeze,  reached  (like  Mrs.  Siddons's  whis- 
per in  Lady  Macbeth)  every  part  of  the  immense  theatre. 
Much  of  the  cfiect  of  this  unrivaled  voice  is  derived  from  the 
physical  beauty  of  its  sound,  but  still  more  from  the  exquisite 
skill  and  taste  with  which  it  is  used,  and  the  intelligence  and 
sensibility  of  which  it  is  the  organ.  Mdlle.  Lind's  execution 
is  that  of  a  complete  musician.  Every  jiassage  is  as  highly 
finished,  as  perfect  in  tone,  tunc,  and  articulation,  as  if  it  pro- 
ceeded from  the  violin  of  a  Paganini  or  a  Sivori,  with  the  ad- 
ditional charm  which  lies  in  the  human  voice  divine.  Her  em- 
bellishments show  the  richest  fancy  and  boundless  facility,  but 
they  show  still  more  remarkably  a  well-regulated  judgment 
and  taste." 

As  an  actress  she  was  easy,  natural,  and  perfectly  original. 
"  Following  her  own  bland  conceptions,"  remarks  one  writer, 
"  she  rises  to  regions  whence,  like  Schiller's  maid,  she  descends 
to  refresh  the  heart  and  soul  of  her  audience  with  e:ifts  beau- 


476  QUEENS   OP   SONG. 

tiful  and  ■wondrous.  Her  individuality  entirely  disappears  in 
her  dramatic  assumptions ;  lier  whole  soul  is  melted  into  and 
vitalizes  the  creations  of  the  poet,  while  the  high  art  stamps 
perfection  on  her  impersonation."  Her  by-play  was  exquisite: 
she  never  spared  herself  in  seeking  to  please  her  audience. 
The  truth  of  her  acting  was  once  exemplified  strangely  in  Ger- 
many, when  a  singer  who  performed  Elvino  to  her  Amina  de- 
clared that  he  could  not  act  with  her,  as  he  was  unable  to  ap- 
proach her  with  the  wrath  the  part  required,  much  less  spurn 
her  from  him,  her  pathetic  delineation  of  anguish  and  innocence 
piercing  his  heart. 

She  was  not  handsome,  but  of  very  pleasing  aspect.  Her 
face  was  peculiarly  placid,  her  features  well-marked  and  ex- 
pressive, her  complexion  pale,  her  cheek-bones  high,  her  eyes 
light  gray  or  blue,  "  dove-like"  in  their  sweetness ;  her  hair 
was  a  i^ale  flaxen,  very  abundant  and  wavy.  In  figure  she 
was  slightly  above  the  middle  size,  and  very  slender,  but  her 
movements  were  full  of  grace.  She  had  an  air  of  simplicity 
and  goodness ;  she  looked  cold,  reserved,  modest,  and  timid. 

Robert  le  Diable  was  repeated  the  following  Thursday,  when 
her  majesty  was  again  present.  The  struggle  for  admission 
was  even  greater  than  on  her  first  appearance,  and  the  theatre 
was  crowded  to  the  roof.  Mdlle.  Lind  was  recalled  three 
times,  and  overwhelmed  with  tumultuous  plaudits  and  show- 
ers of  bouquets.  The  enthusiasm  of  the  public  increased  daily, 
and  was  beyond  description.  Enormous  sums  were  paid  for 
boxes,  and  multitudes  traveled  from  the  most  distant  parts  of 
the  country  to  obtain  a  single  hearing  of  the  Swedish  Night- 
ingale. Three  gentlemen  came  from  Liverpool  for  the  purpose 
of  hearing  her;  but,  after  staying  a  week  in  London,  they  Avere 
not  fortunate  enough  to  obtain  admission,  and  returned  home 
disappointed.  Any  number  of  hours  were  spent  by  her  de- 
voted admirers  before  the  doors  of  the  Opera  House  on  the 
chance  of  obtaining  a  seat  in  the  pit.  From  twenty  to  twen- 
ty-five pounds  were  paid  for  a  single  box  on  her  night  of  per- 
formance, while  four  or  five  guineas  were  commonly  j^aid  for 
one  stall.  Articles  of  furniture  were  called  by  her  name;  por- 
traits and  memoirs  innumerable  of  the  famous  artiste  were 
published. 

During  the  season  Mdlle.  Lind  performed  Amina  in  La  Son- 
nambula,  Maria  in  Xa  Flglia  del  Reggimento^  etc.     She  also 


JENNY    LIND    GOLDSCHMIDT.  477 

performed  in  Verdi's  new  opera,  I  Masnadieri,  which  work 
was  by  no  means  a  success.  Her  chef-d'oeuvre  was  Amiua,  in 
which  she  was  simple,  graceful,  and  touching.  At  the  conclu- 
sion of  her  first  performance  of  ia  Son7iambula  there  was  au 
unprecedented  scene  of  excitement.  The  pit  rose  en  masse, 
hats  and  handkerchiefs  were  waved  on  all  sides,  even  the  la- 
dies in  the  boxes  joining  in  the  demonstration.  Jenny  Lind 
was  vehemently  called  for,  and  when  she  came  tripping  on, 
the  scene  baffled  description. 

At  the  desire  of  the  queen,  the  Swedish  songstress  under- 
took to  perform  Norma.  Though  she  did  not  equal  Grisi,  she 
gained  fresh  laurels  and  heaps  of  bouquets,  to  which  her  maj- 
esty condescended  to  add  one.  During  the  season  Mdlle. 
Lind  sang,  in  conjunction  with  Mdlle.  Alboni,  Madame  Grisi, 
Herr  Staudigl,  and  other  leading  artistes,  at  the  queen's  pri- 
vate concerts. 

At  the  close  of  the  season  a  handsome  "  testimonial"  was 
presented  to  her  by  Mr.  Lumley — of  pure  silver,  nearly  three 
feet  in  height,  representing  a  pillar  wreathed  Avith  laurel,  at 
the  feet  of  which  were  seated  three  draped  figures,  Tragedy, 
Comedy,  and  Music. 

The  Swedish  Nightingale  w^ent  into  the  provinces  under  an 
engagement  with  Mr.  Lumley,  and  every  where  created  au 
electrical  sensation.  The  excitement  of  London  was  repeated. 
She  then  visited  Scotland  and  Dublin.  At  Edinburgh,  fifteen 
guineas  were  actually  paid  for  the  privilege  of  heariug  her.  In 
this  city  two  concerts  were  given  by  Mr.  Howard  Glover  and 
his  brother,  who  gave  Mdlle.  Lind  £1000  for  her  services,  La- 
blache  £200,  Gardoni  £150,  yet  they  realized  above  £1200  by 
the  speculation.  In  Dublin  Mdlle.  Lind  was  received  with  an 
uproar  of  delight. 

She  then  returned,  by  way  of  Berlin,  to  Stockholm,  where 
she  passed  the  winter.  Such  was  the  eagerness  to  witness  her 
performance  at  Stockholm  that  the  places  at  the  theatre  were 
put  up  at  auction,  and  brought  immense  prices.  With  her 
share  of  the  proceeds  Mdlle.  Lind  established  an  asylum  for 
the  support  of  decayed  artists,  and  a  school  for  young  girls 
who  were  studying  for  the  musical  profession.  One  girl  so 
quickly  profited  by  this  opportunity  that  she  was  considered 
by  her  benefactress  sufficiently  promising  to  be  sent  to  Paris 
to  complete  her  studies,  with  a  provision  of  6000  francs  for 


478  QUEENS   OF   SONG. 

her  expenses.  When  Mdlle.  Lind  left  Stockholm  to  return  to 
London,  the  quays  were  crowded  by  the  people  of  the  city ; 
all  the  ships  in  the  harbor  were  manned ;  and  amid  the  play- 
ing of  bands  of  music,  she  was  conducted  to  the  steamer,  in 
which  she  embarked  in  presence  of  the  Queen  of  Sweden  and 
her  court. 

The  "Lind  mania"  raged  in  1848  without  diminution.  The 
public  were  dazzled,  enchanted.  They  heard  with  delight,  too, 
of  her  munificent  deeds  of  charity,  and  the  many  traits  of  her 
amiability,  her  piety,  and  her  goodness.  To  her  repertoire 
she  added  this  season  Lucia,  Susanna,  and  Elvira  {I  Puritani). 
In  June  she  appeared  for  the  first  time  as  Adina,  in  L^Elisir 
cVAmore^  with  Lablache,  Belletti,  and  Gardoni.  She  continued 
in  England  after  the  termination  of  the  season,  probably  on 
account  of  the  unsettled  state  of  the  Continent ;  and  during 
the  autumn  and  winter  she  undertook  extensive  provincial 
tours,  sometimes  appearing  in  her  dramatic  characters,  but 
more  frequently  singing  at  concerts  and  in  oratorios.  She 
went  on  a  trip  to  Dublin,  where  she  received  a  tumultuous 
ovation.  At  Birmingham,  Manchester,  Norwich,  there  was 
one  fever  of  delight.  At  Manchester  she  gave  two  concerts 
in  aid  of  the  Infirmary  of  the  city,  and,  as  an  acknowledgment 
of  her  kindness,  the  people  of  Manchester  presented  her  with 
a  superb  dressing-case  and  a  necklace  of  pearls.  In  the  city  of 
Norwich  she  formed  the  acquaintance  of  the  excellent  bishop, 
who  remained  one  of  her  most  cordial  and  attached  friends. 
On  leaving  Norwich  she  was  presented  by  the  bishop  with  a 
Bible,  while  the  mayor,  on  behalf  of  the  city,  ofiered  her  a 
splendidly-illustrated  edition  of  Milton's  Paradise  Lost. 

The  following  April  Jenny  Lind  reappeared  at  Her  Majes- 
ty's Theatre  for  a  limited  number  of  nights,  having  resolved 
finally  to  take  leave  of  the  stage.  Her  last  operatic  perform- 
ance in  opera  was  given  May  10,  in  her  original  character  of 
Alice.  Even  in  the  first  flush  of  the  public  excitement,  never 
was  there  a  more  striking  scene  than  the  Opera  House  pre- 
sented on  the  night  of  her  farewell.  The  crowd  was  dense ; 
boxes,  stalls,  pit — every  nook  was  filled.  Her  majesty.  Prince 
Albert,  the  Duchess  of  Kent,  and  all  the  rank  and  fashion  of 
London,  assembled  to  pay  a  last  tribute  of  admiration.  At 
the  fall  of  the  curtain  the  vast  assembly  rose  with  a  burst  of 
cheers,  and  the  shouts  of  delight  were  deafening.     In  a  few 


JKNNY    LIND    GOLDSCHMIDT.  479 

moments  Jenny  Lincl  came  forward,  led  by  Gardoni,  and  bowed 
respectfully  to  the  audience.  She  was  visibly  affected,  yet 
shrank  from  all  open  expression  of  her  feelings.  Scarcely  had 
she  retired  Avhen  another  storm  arose,  and  again  Jenny  Lind 
came  forward,  led  by  Belletti.  Bouquets  were  showered  on 
the  stage,  and  the  applause  was  louder,  if  possible,  than  ever. 
A  third  time  she  was  called;  when  she  came  on  alone,  trem- 
bling with  suppressed  emotion,  bowing  lowly,  and  looking  an 
eloquent  farewell.  This  time  the  enthusiasm  was  so  irrepress- 
ible, so  prolonged,  so  spontaneous,  so  overwhelming,  that  she 
was  no  longer  able  to  control  her  feelings,  and  tears  of  grati- 
tude flowed  over  her  pale  cheeks. 

The  close  of  1849  found  her  in  Germany.  At  Lubeck  she 
concluded  a  treaty  with  Barnura,  the  exhibitor  of  General  Tom 
Thumb,  which  resulted  in  her  visiting  America  under  his  au- 
spices. The  terms  were  680,000,  £200  for  each  of  the  150 
concerts  at  which  Mdlle.  Lind  was  to  sing,  the  entire  personal 
expenses  of  her  party  being  paid.  She  was  accompanied  by 
Siguor  Belletti  and  Jules  Benedict,  the  former  of  whom  re- 
ceived 812,500,  the  latter  81000. 

The  time  between  signing  her  American  engao-ement  and 
her  departure  was  employed  by  Jenny  Lind  in  giving  concerts 
on  the  Continent,  mostly  for  charitable  purposes.  She  sang 
at  Berlin,  Bremen,  and  Gottingen,  with  her  unvarying  success. 
At  the  two  latter  places,  the  students  formed  a  procession  by 
torch-light  in  her  honor,  gave  her  a  serenade,  and  formed  an 
escort  for  her  to  Nordheim. 

Her  last  songs  on  this  side  the  Atlantic  Averc  given  at  Liv- 
erpool, in  the  -splendid  new  hall  of  the  Philharmonic  Society. 
There  were,  including  the  orchestra,  upward  of  3000  persons 
present.  The  appearance  of  the  Swedish  Nightingale  was  the 
signal  for  a  demonstration  that  can  not  be  described.  The  au- 
dience stood  up  to  welcome  her,  and  such  a  volley  of  cheers  as 
rent  the  air  was,  perhaps,  never  before  heard  within  the  walls 
of  a  theatre  or  concert -room;  three  times  was  the  salvo  re- 
peated, and  it  Avas  almost  with  difficulty  that  Mdlle.  Lind,  who 
seemed  quite  overpowered  by  her  reception,  was  enabled  to 
obtain  silence.  She  sang  some  English  airs.  Her  pronuncia- 
tion was  exceedingly  pure  and  articulate,  "  with  just  so  mucli 
of  accent  as  gave  it  a  special  and  fascinating  quaintness."  In 
the  ballad  style  she  excelled  quite  as  much  as  in  the  florid  and 


480  QUEENS    OF   SONG. 

bravura  school :  there  was  a  simplicity,  an  earnestness  of  dec- 
lamation, a  peculiar  charm,  which  thrilled  the  hearer. 

Her  arrival  at  New  York,  in  September,  being  expected, 
the  dock  and  landing  were  crowded  with  persons  curious  to 
obtain  the  first  glimpse  of  the  great  songstress.    Amid  cheers 
and  acclamations  from  the  hundreds  gathered  around  the  car- 
riage in  waiting  for  her,  Mdlle.  Lind  disembarked,  and  was 
driven  to  the  Irving  House  Hotel.     At  midnight  30,000  per- 
sons assembled,  and  at  one  in  the  morning  130  musicians  came 
up  to  serenade  her,  led  by  VOO  firemen.     The  excitement  was 
extraordinary :  it  became  a  distinction  even  to  have  a  proba- 
bility of  hearing  her  sing.     The  papers  actually  published  the 
names  of  those  who  bought  tickets,  and  printed  a  fac-simile  of 
the  card  which  was  to  admit  the  public  to  hear  her :  they  were 
not  ashamed  to  fill  their  columns  with  stories  of  the  most  ridic- 
ulous nature.    The  anxiety  to  see  Mdlle.  Lind  whenever  she 
happened  to  take  a  drive  was  almost  frantic.    Public  "  recep- 
tion days"  were  arranged  for  her,  and  throngs  of  ladies  at- 
tended her  drawing-rooms.     Presents  of  all  kinds  poured  in 
upon  her,  the  donors  thereof  anticipating  that  she  would  give 
them  rings,  pins,  bracelets,  brooches,  etc.,  etc.,  in  token  of  grat- 
itude.   The  first  three  days  innumerable  bouquets  and  other 
testimonies  of  esteem  were  sent,  which  she  declined  to  receive. 
On  the  day  of  the  first  concert,  spite  of  torrents  of  rain,  there 
were  5000  persons  in  the  ofiice  buying  tickets;  and  the  first 
ticket  for  the  first  concert  was  sold  for  $600  (£45).     On  the 
morning  of  Mdlle.  Lind's  first  appearance,  September  11,  at 
Castle  Garden,  there  was  nothing  else  talked  of  from  one  end 
of  New  York  to  the  other.    The  building  was  crowded  to  ex- 
cess in  the  evening,  though  there  were  very  few  ladies.    Shouts 
from  7000  throats  saluted  the  Swedish  songstress  as,  pale  and 
agitated,  she  stepped  timidly  forth,  dressed  simply  in  white, 
the  applause  surpassing  every  thing  that  had  previously  been 
ofiered  her.     She  sang  "  Casta  Diva,"  a  duet,  with  Belletti, 
from  Rossini's  II  Turco  m  Italia,  the  Trio  Concertante  with 
two  flutes  from  Meyerbeer's  Cam2y  of  Silesia,  accompanied 
by  herself— a  most  exquisite  performance,  her  voice  perfectly 
echoinff  the  notes  of  the  flutes.    She  sang  also  two  national 
airs  of  Sweden. 

The  first  concert  realized  $20,000.     Mdlle.  Lind  gave  her 
share,  $10,000,  to  the  benevolent  institutions  of  New  York, 


JEXNT   LIND   G0LDSCH5IIDT.  481 

and  on  learning  that  some  of  the  members  of  the  'New  York 
orchestra  were  in  indigent  circumstances,  she  generously  made 
them  a  substantial  gift.  Her  beneficent  actions  during  her  en- 
tire stay  in  America  are  too  numerous  to  detail.  She  helped 
numbers,  and  gave  largely  of  the  enormous  sums  which  she 
received.  Frequently  would  she  flit  away  from  her  house, 
quietly,  as  if  about  to  pay  a  visit,  and  then  she  might  be  seen 
disappearing  down  back  lanes  or  into  the  cottages  of  the  poor. 
She  was  warned  to  avoid  so  much  liberality,  as  many  unwor- 
thy persons  took  unfiTir  advantage  of  her  bounty ;  but  she  in- 
variably replied,  "  Never  mind ;  if  I  relieve  ten,  and  one  is 
worthy,  I  am  satisfied."  She  had  distributed  30,000  florins 
in  Germany ;  she  gave  away  in  England  nearly  £00,000 ;  and 
in  America  she  ^ttered  in  charity  no  less  than  650,000. 
Making  a  certain  provision  for  her  own  future  support,  as  well 
as  that  of  her  beloved  parents,  who  resided  in  Sweden,  her  de- 
sire was  to  devote  the  proceeds  of  her  visit  to  America  to  pro- 
moting education  among  the  poor  of  her  native  land. 

Her  second  debut  in  the  States  was  in  Boston,  October  1, 
at  the  Tremont  Temple,  where  she  had  the  same  stupendous 
success.  October  7,  she  sang  in  Providence.  The  next  con- 
cert which  she  gave  in  Boston  was  appropriated  to  charitable 
purj)oses.  She  then  went  to  Philadelphia,  back  to  New  York, 
again  to  Philadelphia,  then  to  Baltimore,  Washington,  Rich- 
mond, Charleston,  Havana,  and  other  places.  At  Baltimore, 
while  standing  at  a  balcony,  bowing  to  the  loud  and  enthusi- 
astic applause  of  the  multitude  at  the  close  of  a  serenade,  she 
had  the  misfortune  to  drop  her  shawl ;  in  less  than  a  minute 
it  was  torn  into  fragments,  which  were  distributed  to  all  who 
were  in  the  immediate  vicinity,  as  mementoes  of  the  songstress. 

In  June,  1851,  Mdlle.  Lind  availed  herself,  after  the  95th 
concert,  of  an  article  in  the  agreement  with  Mr.  Barnum, 
which  enabled  her  to  prematurely  conclude  her  engagement, 
and  by  a  sacrifice  of  some  $30,000,  to  break  the  jiartnership. 
She  then  continued  the  series  herself. 

Some  time  after  this  she  married  Mr.  Otto  Goldschmidt, 
a  pianist,  son  of  a  wealthy  merchant  of  Hamburg.  He  was 
twenty-four,  small,  but  good-looking.  His  graceful  and  fin- 
ished style  of  playing  had  obtained  for  hira  much  applause  in 
London  at  the  concerts  of  the  Musical  Union  in  1849. 

Madame  Lind  Goldschmidt  returned  to  Europe  in  1852. 
31  X 


482 


QUEENS    OF   SONG, 


After  a  brief  tour  through  England  en  route  to  Germany,  de- 
clining every  proposition  for  a  public  appearance,  she  settled 
in  Dresden,  employing  in  good  works,  and  in  piously  founding 
schools,  etc.,  a  part  of  her  immense  fortune.  Excepting  on 
the  occasion  of  concerts  given  at  Vienna,  Hamburg,  and  a  few 
other  German  cities,  she  confined  herself  strictly  to  the  retire- 
ment of  private  life  up  to  December,  1856,  when  she  reappear- 
ed in  London,  at  Exeter  Hall,  and  by  her  admirable  rendering 
of  the  finest  sacred  music  revived  her  former  popularity.  For 
her  first  appearance  the  Creation  was  chosen,  the  music  of 
this  oratorio  being  especially  suited  to  the  marvelous  fullness 
and  purity  of  her  voice.  "  The  wonder  is,"  said  one  critic, 
"that  the  notes  should  issue  forth  with  such  sustained  ease 
from  a  frame  so  comparatively  gentle."  The  beautiful  airs, 
"  With  verdure  clad,"  and  "  On  mighty  pens,"  were  warbled 
with  a  charming  clearness  of  intonation ;  and  all  the  other 
pieces  were  delivered  with  an  extraordinary  beauty  and  finish. 
Her  second  appearance  was  in  Elijah^  in  which  she  sang  with 
splendid  eflfect.  Her  intensity  of  feehng,  her  faultless  skill, 
her  exquisite  taste,  were  irreproachable. 

From  that  to  the  present  time,  Mr.  and  Mme.  Goldschmidt 
have  lived  almost  entirely  in  England,  having  apparently  de- 
termined to  make  this  country  their  permanent  home.  She 
has  occasionally  appeared  in  public,  generally  for  benevolent 
purjjoses ;  and,  whenever  she  appears,  she  is  received  with  as 
much  enthusiasm  as  ever.  In  private  society  she  meets  with 
the  esteem  and  regard  due  to  her  virtues  and  talents. 


SOPHIE    CKUVELLl.  483 


CHAPTER  XXXVI. 

SOPHIE   CKUVELLl. 

Sophie  Cruvelli,  the  daughter  of  a  Protestant  clergyman 
named  Cruwell,  was  born,  1830,  at  Bielefeld  in  Prussia.  Her 
family,  though  by  no  means  rich,  possessed  some  little  prop- 
erty, and  intended  to  endow  Sophie  Avith  a  moderate  fortune 
when  she  should  marry.  Her  parents  resolved  to  educate  her 
with  care,  and,  finding  that  she  had  a  decided  taste  for  music, 
her  mother  took  her  to  Paris  when  she  was  fourteen,  that  she 
might  obtain  finishing  lessons. 

Permarini  and  Bordogni  were  the  masters  from  whom  she 
received  instruction.  The  latter,  at  once  i^erceiving  the  intu- 
itive genius  of  the  girl,  spared  no  trouble,  and  would  not  allow 
her  to  spare  herself  labor.  He  made  her  practice  solfeggio 
four  hours  a  day,  setting  her  the  most  difficult  exercises  he 
could  invent ;  and  during  two  years  of  severe  application  and 
tedious  labor,  he  would  not  permit  her  to  sing  any  thing  but 
vocal  scales.  At  the  end  of  that  time  her  mother  came  to 
take  away  Sophie,  thinking  that  she  must  by  this  time  have 
acquired  a  sufficient  mastery  of  French  and  music,  and  might 
very  well  return  home ;  but  Bordogni  protested  against  rob- 
bing the  musical  world  of  such  a  treasure  as  the  Frilulein  Cru- 
well would  prove,  after  two  or  three  years  more  of  study :  it 
was  foolish,  it  was  wrong,  he  declared^  to  prevent  her  from 
following  what  was  obviously  her  destiny,  Madame  Cruwell 
saw  the  justice  of  Bordogni's  representations.  "  If  my  daugh- 
ter devotes  herself  to  the  stage,"  she  said,  "  and  freely  em- 
braces the  career  of  an  artiste,  we  may  endeavor  to  submit  to 
farther  sacrifices ;  but  if  merely  destined  to  bring  up  a  family, 
she  has  learned  quite  enough  of  solfeggio :  her  little  fortune 
will  be  all  consumed  by  her  singing  lessons."  Sophie  was 
consulted,  and  declared  that  she  must  become  a  prima  donna ; 
so  it  was  settled  that  she  should  complete  her  studies  in  Italy, 
and  the  family  left  for  Milan.     Before  quitting  Paris,  however. 


484  QUEENS    OF    S02^G. 

she  ajjpeared  at  a  concert  given  by  the  Hemie  et  Gazette  Mil- 
sicale,  September  12,  1847. 

At  Milan  she  was  preparing  to  commence  operations  with 
spirit,  when  a  dreadful  discovery  was  made.  She  could  not 
sing  at  all!  When  she  opened  her  lips,  not  a  sound  came 
forth;  her  voice  was  absolutely  gone!  The  despair  of  the 
family,  the  anguish  of  Sophie,  are  not  to  be  depicted.  Nothing- 
remained  to  be  done  but  to  return  to  Bielefeld.  "While  making 
their  preparations  for  departure  in  mournful  saduess,  Signor 
Lamberti,  an  experienced  professor,  to  whom  they  had  been 
recommended,  was  announced.  They  described  to  him  their 
misfortune,  at  which  Lamberti  was  very  much  surprised;  how- 
ever, he  began  talking  to  Sophie,  and  soon  ascertained  what  he 
had  suspected  to  be  the  truth,  that  her  voice  had  simply  been 
exhausted  by  the  fatigue  of  her  journey.  He  therefore  advised 
the  family  to  defer  their  departure  for  a  few  days.  They  did 
so,  and  when  he  called  again,  Sophie's  voice  had  returned  clear- 
er and  more  beautiful  than  ever:  the  high  notes  had  gained 
additional  purity  and  strength,  and  the  lower  were  more  rich 
and  mellow  than  they  had  ever  been  before.  Lamberti  assist- 
ed the  young  German  with  advice  and  instruction,  and  at  last, 
at  the  end  of  1847,  Sophie  made  her  debut  at  La  Fenice,  under 
the  Italianized  name  of  Cruvelli,  in  the  part  of  Dona  Sol  [Er- 
nmii).  She  next  performed  Norma,  and  was  most  favorably 
received. 

Deserted  by  his  original  company,  Mr.  Lumley  was  roving- 
all  over  Europe  in  quest  of  another,  and  having  heard  Mdlle. 
Cruvelli  at  Venice,  he  immediately  engaged  her  for  the  ensu- 
ing season.  The  company  at  Her  Majesty's  Theatre  in  1848 
consisted  of  Mesdaraes  Persiani  and  Viardot,  Mesdemoiselles 
Alboni  and  Cruvelli,  Signori  Cuzzani,  Belletti,  Gardoni,  and 
Polouini. 

Mdlle.  Cruvelli  was  then  only  eighteen,  and  her  voice  and 
style  were  still  unfinished ;  yet,  although  she  was  unaided  by 
any  extraneous  intei*est,  and  the  "Lind  mania"  was  raging, 
Mdlle.  Cruvelli  made  a  decided  sensation.  She  appeared  on 
Saturday,  February  19,  in  Ernani,  with  Cuzzani,  Gardoni,  and 
Belletti.  She  possessed  much  enthusiasm,  spirit,  and  anima- 
tion, though  as  yet  deficient  in  physical  power,  and  often  led 
into  mistaking  violence  for  energy.  Her  voice,  in  compass 
from  F  to  F,  was  a  clear,  silvery  soprano,  the  low  notes  of 


SOPHIE   CKUVELLI.  485 

which  had  something  of  the  contralto  quality ;  her  tones  were 
vigorous,  fresh,  and  bell-like.  In  ajipearance  she  was  youthful 
and  engaging.  Her  figure,  of  the  middle  height,  was  fine  and 
well-moulded,  her  face  of  the  Teutonic  type.  Her  manner  was 
particularly  dramatic,  and  hei-  style  energetic.  The  audience 
were  prepossessed  in  her  favor,  and  gave  her  the  kindest  re- 
ception ;  in  fact,  she  was  entirely  successful. 

Mdlle.  Cruvelli  made  a  farther  advance  as  Odabella  in  At- 
tila,  and  as  Lucrfizia  in  I  Due  Foscari:  her  performances  w^ere 
acknowledged  to  be  of  high  order,  both  vocally  and  dramat- 
ically. She  also  gained  much  credit  by  her  personation  of  Lu- 
crezia  Borgia,  acting  with  great  intelligence,  earnestness,  and 
energy.  She  ap])eared  in  Ernani  five  times ;  as  Abigaile,  in 
Nino^  twice ;  as  Lucrezia  Borgia  thrice ;  as  Rosina  in  II  Bar- 
biere,  and  the  Countess  in  Kozze  cU  Fiffciro,  to  Jenny  Lind's 
Susanna,  several  times.  Her  Rosina  was  a  pretty,  piquant 
performance,  modest  and  unpretending,  and  not  deficient  in 
dramatic  truth. 

Unfortunately,  Sophie  Avas  driven  away  by  the  Lind  fever, 
and  she  retreated  to  Germany,  where  she  commenced  a  mu- 
sical tour.  She  was  at  Berlin  when  the  Revolution  broke  out, 
and  was  obliged  to  quit  the  city.  She  left  Berlin  for  Trieste, 
where,  during  the  Carnival,  she  performed  in  Attila,  JSforma, 
Don  Pasquale,  3Iacbeth — in  short,  any  thing  and  every  thing, 
old  and  new,  serious  and  comic,  classical  and  sensational.  Ear- 
ly in  1850  she  was  at  Milan,  Avhere  the  patrons  of  La  Scala  of- 
fered her  the  most  extravagant  ovations.  She  then  went  to 
Genoa,  where  she  had  an  unlucky  difierence  with  the  young 
habitues  of  the  parterre,  in  consequence  of  a  misunderstand- 
ing. She  sang  in  Lucrezia  Bonjia^  JSTorma,  A'^abucco,  and  At- 
tila,  and  her  success  was  so  great  that  it  Avas  impossible  to 
obtain  a  place  without  securing  it  several  days  in  advance. 
Her  last  part  was  in  an  opera  by  Signor  Chiaramonte,  a  Nea- 
politan con1f)oser,  which  added  greatly  to  her  fiime,  and  she 
was  eulogized  in  the  most  rapturous  terms  by  the  Italian 
journalists. 

The  second  week  in  April,  1850,  she  made  her  first  appear- 
ance at  the  Theatre  Italien,  in  Paris,  then  under  Mr.  Lumley's 
direction,  as  Elvira,  to  Mr.  Sims  Reeves's  Ernani.  She  was 
received  with  enthusiasm  which  surpassed  even  that  excited 
at  Venice,  Trieste,  or  Milan,  and  she  repeated  the  character 


486 


QtrEENS    OF    SONG. 


several  times  to  crowded  houses.  She  appeared  for  a  second 
time  at  Her  Majesty's  Theatre,  May  20, 1851,  in  Fidelio,  with 
Mr.  Sims  Reeves. 

Her  improvement  had  been  marvelous.  Although  scarcely 
more  than  twenty,  she  had  now  become  a  most  adraii*able  art- 
iste. The  sculpturesque  beauty  of  her  physiognomy,  the  pro- 
found dramatic  sentiment  of  her  acting,  the  incomparable  bril- 
liancy of  her  voice,  elicited  universal  admiration.  Her  Leo- 
nora was  an  exquisitely  finished,  an  entrancing  jjerformance ; 
and  her  acting  and  singing  in  the  prison  scene  was  forcible, 
intense,  yet  delicately  shaded.  "From  the  shuddering  expres- 
sion given  to  the  words,  '  How  cold  it  is  in  this  subterranean 
vault,'  spoken  on  entering  Florestan's  dungeon,"  said  one  crit- 
ic, "  to  the  joyous  and  energetic  duet,  in  which  the  reunited 
pair  give  vent  to  their  rapturous  feelings,  all  was  inimitable. 
Each  transition  of  feeling  was  faithfully  conveyed,  and  the 
suspicion  growing  by  degrees  into  certainty  that  the  wretch- 
ed prisoner  is  Florestan,  was  depicted  with  heart- searching- 
truth.    The  internal  struggle  was  perfectly  expressed." 

"With  Mdlle.  Cruvelli,"  says  this  writer,  "Fidelio  is  gov- 
erned throughout  by  one  purpose,  to  which  every  thing  is  ren- 
dered subservient.    Determination  to  discover  and  liberate  her 
husband  is  the  main-spring  not  only  of  all  her  actions,  and  the 
theme  of  all  her  soliloquies,  but  even  when  others  likely  to  in- 
fluence her  design  in  any  way  are  acting  or  speaking,  we  read 
in  the  anxious  gaze,  the  breathless  anxiety,  the  head  bent  to 
catch  the  slightest  word,  a  continuation  of  the  same  train  of 
thought,  and  an  ever-living  ardor  in  the  pursuit  of  the  one 
cherished  object.    In  such  positions  as  these,  where  one  gifted 
artist  follows  nature  with  so  delicate  an  appreciation  of  its 
most  subtle  truths,  it  is  not  easy  for  a  character  occupying 
the  background  of  the  stage  picture  to  maintain  (although  by 
gesture  only)  a  constant  commentary  upon  the  words  of  oth- 
ers without  becoming  intrusive  or  attracting  an  midue  share 
of  attention.    Yet  Cruvelli  does  this  throughout  the  first  scene 
(especially  during  the  duet  betwixt  Rocco  and  Pizarro,  in 
which  Fidelio  overhears  the  plan  to  assassinate  her  husband) 
with  a  perfection  akin  to  that  realized  by  Rachel  in  the  last 
scene  of  Les  Horaces,  where  Camille  listens  to  the  recital  of 
her  brother's  victory  over  her  lover ;  and  the  result,  like  that 
of  the  chorus  in  a  Greek  drama,  is  to  heighten  rather  than 


SOPHIE   CRUVELLI.  487 

lessen  the  effect.  These  may  be  considered  minor  points,  but, 
as  necessary  j^arts  of  a  great  conception,  they  are  as  import- 
ant, and  afford  as  much  evidence  of  the  master  mind,  as  tlie 
artist's  delivery  of  the  grandest  speeches  or  scenes." 

"  Mdlle.  CruveUi,"  observes  another  critic,  "  has  the  power 
of*  expressing  joy  and  despair,  hope  and  anxiety,  hatred  and 
love,  fear  and  resolution,  with  equal  facility.  She  has  voice 
and  execution  sufficient  to  master  with  ease  all  the  trying  dil- 
ficulties  of  the  most  trying  and  difficult  of  parts," 

Norma  was  Sophie's  second  performance.  "Before  the  first 
act  was  over,  Sophie  Cruvelli  demonstrated  that  she  was  as 
profound  a  mistress  of  the  grand  as  of  the  romantic  school  of 
acting,  as  perfect  an  interpreter  of  the  brilliant  as  of  the  clas- 
sical school  of  music."  She  represented  Fidelio  five  times,  and 
j!!^orma  thrice. 

Her  features  were  most  expressive,  and  well  adapted  to  the 
lyric  stage;  her  manner  also  was  dramatic  and  energetic.  She 
was  highly  original,  and  always  thought  for  herself.  Possess- 
ing a  jDrofound  insight  into  character,  her  conception  was  al- 
ways true  and  just,  while  her  execution  continually  varied. 
"The  one  proceeds  from  a  judgment  that  never  errs,  the  oth- 
er from  impulse,  which  may  j^ossibly  lead  her  astray.  Thus, 
while  her  Fidelio  and  her  Norma  are  never  precisely  the  same 
on  two  consecutive  evenings,  they  are,  nevertheless,  always  Fi- 
delio and  Norma.  .  .  .  She  does  not  calculate.  She  sings  and 
acts  on  the  impulse  of  the  moment;  but  her  performance  must 
always  be  impressive,  because  it  is  always  true  to  one  idea, 
always  bearing  upon  one  object — the  vivid  realization  of  the 
character  she  impersonates  to  the  apprehension  of  her  audi- 
ence." So  much  was  she  the  creature  of  impulse,  that  even 
when  she  woiild  spend  a  day,  a  week,  a  month,  in  elaborating 
a  certain  passage — a  certain  dramatic  effect — perhaps  on  the 
night  of  performance  she  would  improvise  something  perfect- 
ly different  from  her  preconceived  idea. 

Her  sister  Marie  made  her  debut  in  Thalberg's  Florinda, 
in  July,  with  Sophie.  She  was  a  graceful  and  charming  con- 
tralto; but  her  timidity,  and  an  ovcrdelicacy  of  expression, 
did  not  permit  her  then  to  display  her  talents  to  the  greatest 
advantage.  The  brother  of  the  sisters  Cruvelli  was  a  fine  bar- 
itone. 

At  the  close  of  1851,  Sophie  went  again  to  the  Theatre 


488  QUEENS    OF    SONG. 

• 

Italien ;  and  the  following  year  she  returned  to  London,  mak- 
ing her  appearance,  April  17,  as  Norma,  with  Lablache  and 
Gardoni.  She  had  established  herself  as  a  welcome  favorite, 
and  performed  during  the  season  in  La  Sonnambula^  II  Bar- 
Mere,  etc.  Her  improvement  was  remarkable  even  in  her  act- 
ing, always  so  energetic  and  impulsive.  Before  the  termina- 
tion of  the  season,  the  whimsical  young  lady  suddenly  disap- 
peared, without  giving  any  reason  for  her  extraordinary  pro- 
ceeding, or  vouchsafing  any  subsequent  explanation.  She  was 
heard  of  in  August  at  Wiesbaden,  from  whence  she  repaired 
to  Aix-la-Chapelle,  where  she  performed  in  Le  FropMte.  Then 
she  was  on  the  banks  of  the  Rhine,  and  afterward  she  reap- 
peared at  the  Theatre  Italien. 

There  was  unwonted  excitement  among  the  frequenters  of 
the  Grand  Opera  in  Paris  on  January  16, 1854,  for  Sophie  Cru- 
velli  was  to  make  her  debut  there,  the  opera  selected  for  this 
occasion  hem^^  Les  Huguenots.  She  was  to  receive  100,000 
francs  for  six  months.  Meyerbeer  was  very  much  pleased, 
and  set  to  work  once  more  on  his  long-promised  opera,  L'Af- 
ricaine,  the  principal  character  in  which  he  destined  for  Mdlle. 
Cruvelli,  of  Avhose  talents  he.  entertained  the  highest  opinion. 
The  house  was  crowded  to  the  ceiling.  A  fortnight  in  ad- 
vance, orchestra  stalls  were  sold  for  200  francs,  and  boxes 
were  scarcely  to  be  obtained.  The  emperor  and  empress  ar- 
rived some  time  before  the  hour  of  commencing;  and  the 
number  of  notabilities  among  the  audience  was  striking.  Mey- 
erbeer, pleased  by  the  renewed  impetus  given  to  his  pet  ope- 
ra, was  present,  as  also  were  Auber,  Benedict,  Berlioz,  Alboni, 
Madame  Viardot,  Mario,  Tamburini,  Vivier,  Theophile  Gau- 
tier,  Fiorentino ;  "  it  was  scarcely  possible  to  direct  an  opera- 
glass  to  any  part  of  the  house  without  bringing  the  face 
and  figure  of  some  notable  person  into  view."  It  w^as  unan- 
imously agreed  that  such  a  Valentine  had  never  been  seen 
or  heard ;  and  Meyerbeer  himself,  who  is  not  easily  satisfied, 
especially  in  his  own  works,  expressed  the  warmest  appro- 
bation. 

In  March,  Spontini's  Vestale  was  reproduced.  As  many 
years  had  elapsed  since   its  performance  last  in  Paris,  the  | 

greatest  curiosity  was  manifested  to  hear  it.  Nevertheless, 
it  did  not  obtain  the  triumphant  success  that  had  been  antici- 
pated ;  for,  although  Mdlle.  Cruvelli  sang  with  great  power 


SOPHIE   CEUVELLI.  489 

and  sometimes  with  almost  terrible  energy,  the  opera  was  ex- 
ecuted very  carelessly  by  the  orchestra  and  the  chorus.  Mdlle. 
Cruvelli's  performance  was  praised  on  all  sides.  "  She  is,  in 
fact,  almost  the  only  cantatrice  who  acts  as  well  as  sings.  She 
would  have  made  an  excellent  tragedian,"  says  one  writer. 
Roger  and  Bonnehee  took  the  other  parts  in  this  opera,  and 
were  much  applauded. 

Having  been  engaged  at  the  Royal  Italian  Opera,  Sophie 
Cruvelli  appeared  Thursday,  April  27,  as  Desdemona,  with 
Tamburini  and  Ronconi.  She  received,  it  was  said,  £250  a 
night  for  eight  nights.  May  3  she  appeared  in  Fidelio^  in 
which  she  was  not  to  be  surpassed ;  and  on  May  11  (for  the 
first  time  at  the  Royal  Italian  Opera)  in  Don  Giovanni.  As 
Donna  Anna  she  achieved  a  new  success,  displaying  unexpect- 
ed intensity  and  variety  of  passion,  and  delivering  some  of  the 
fine  recitatives  and  airs  in  a  superb  style. 

June  21,  Robert  le  Diable  was  revived  with  great  splendor 
at  the  Grand  Opera  in  Paris,  in  presence  of  a  brilliant  and 
overflowing  audience.  Sophie  Cruvelli  was  magnificent  as 
Alice,  and  her  voice  was  pure  and  fresh.  In  October,  an  ex- 
traordinary sensation  was  created  in  the  musical  circles  of  Par- 
is by  the  sudden  disappearance  of  Sophie.  She  was  announced 
to  perform  in  Les  Huguenots^  but  when  the  evening  arrived 
she  was  not  to  be  found.  She  had  left  Paris  by  the  Northern 
Railway  without  any  intimation  of  where  she  was  gone.  The 
previous  season,  at  the  Theatre  Italien,  she  had  more  than  once 
played  a  trick  of  the  same  kind,  not  being  regularly  paid ;  but 
it  created  great  surprise  that  she  would  relinquish  such  an  enor- 
mous salary — £4000  for  a  season  consisting  of  eight  months, 
for  singing  only  twice  a  week ;  abandon  every  thing,  injure 
the  manager,  M.  Fould,  and  insult  the  public — all  for  a  whim. 
Every  imaginable  reason  for  her  departure  Avas  guessed  at. 
Her  furniture  and  the  money  at  her  bankers'  were  seized  upon 
as  a  security  for  the  forfeit  (£4000)  which  she  had  incurred 
by  this  breach  of  her  engagement,  and  her  private  letters  and 
papers  were  opened  and  read.  In  November  she  "  demanded 
and  obtained  permission"  to  return  to  the  Grand  Opera,  when 
the  cause  of  her  eccentric  flight  appeared  to  be  a  "  misunder- 
standing." She  presented  herself  again  in  Lcs  ITuguoiots,  and 
the  audience  testified  their  displeasure  by  receiving  the  truant 
in  solemn  silence;  but  she  ultimately  succeeded  in  winning 

X2 


490  QUEENS   OF   SONG. 

their  pardon,  and  continued  to  be  the  great  attraction,  for  some 
time,  in  Les  Huguenots. 

In  1855  Verdi's  V(ipres  Siciliefines  was  produced,  Mdlle. 
Cruvelli  taking  the  part  of  Helene,  the  other  characters  being 
performed  by  Bonnehee,  Gueymard,  and  Obin.  The  mise-en- 
scene  was  splendid,  and  the  opera  was  completely  successful. 
"  The  audience  Avas  electrified  by  the  tones  of  her  magnificent 
voice,  which  realized  with  equal  effect  those  high  inspirations 
that  demand  passion,  force,  and  impulse,  and  those  tender  pas- 
sages that  require  delicacy,  taste,  and  a  thorough  knowledge  of 
the  art  of  singing.  No  one  could  reproach  Mdlle.  Cruvelli 
with  exaggeration,  so  well  did  she  know  how  to  restrain  her 
ardent  nature."  "  Cruvelli  is  the  Rachel  of  the  Grand  Opera !" 
exclaimed  a  French  critic. 

Rumors  of  her  approaching  marriage  now  began  to  circulate, 
and  it  was  understood  that  she  was  about  to  finally  quit  the 
stage;  and  on  January  5,  1856,  Sophie  Cruvelli  married  the 
Baron  Vigier,  a  wealthy  young  Parisian,  the  son  of  Baron  or 
Count  Vigier,  whose  father  endowed  the  city  of  Paris  with  the 
immense  bathing  establishments  upon  the  Seine  which  bear  his 
name,  and  who,  under  Louis  Philippe,  was  a  member  of  the 
Chamber  of  Deputies,  and  afterward  Peer  of  France. 

In  July,  1857,  a  concert  was  given  for  the  poor  at  Vannes, 
at  which  Madame  la  Baronne  Vigier  (Sophie  Cruvelli)  sang, 
and  which  produced  the  sura  of  4000  francs  (£160). 

In  1860  Madame  Vigier  was  residing  with  her  husband  at 
his  baronial  mansion  at  Nice,  and  sang  on  many  occasions  in 
the  salons  of  the  elite  of  the  oflicial  and  fashionable  world.  She 
sang  her  own  compositions  among  others,  one  of  which  consist- 
ed of  variations  on  a  well-known  Tyrolienne,  showy,  replete 
with  traits  as  eccentric,  and  eccentricities  as  defiant  of  rule  as 
herself.    She  continued  to  sing  frequently  at  charity  concerts. 


tV.  o  V 


horrified  at  her  wisli  to  become  a  vocalist.     From  the  age  of 


')y  Bo- 


:  Other  • 
and  OI)in.    The  mise-en- 


'her  appr 


.'11     Ci  vtll  «4«^i.  \       Om     i-OCv,    . 


marriage  now  began  to  circulat 
finally  quit  th^- 
■    1  the 


it  oi  i'uie  i;- 


MARIETTA  PICCOLOMIjSI.  493 


CHAPTER  XXXVll. 

MARIETTA     PICCOLO  MINI. 

During  the  Carnival  of  1856,  a  stranger  would  have  imag- 
ined that  the  inhabitants  of  the  little  town  of  Sienna  had  sud- 
denly become  frantic,  for  they  were  rushing  hither  and  thither, 
from  church  to  theatre,  from  the  duomo  to  balls  and  dancing- 
parties.  They  were  mad  with  joy  at  having  received  permis- 
sion to  wear  masks,  which  had  been  jDrohibited  for  more  than 
eight  years. 

They  were  deliriously  dancing,  shouting,  singing,  ogling, 
laughing,  screaming,  with  the  most  hilarious  gayety  and  frol- 
icsome good-humor,  pelting  each  other  with  roses,  violets,  and 
camellias,  confetti,  or  bon-bons ;  doing  every  thing  by  turns, 
and  nothing  long,  and  finishing  the  day  by  going  to  the  Opera, 
to  weep  over  the  woes  of  the  unhappy  Violetta,  heroine  of 
Za  Traviata,  personated  by  Marietta  Piccolomini.  Next  to 
the  rapture  of  being  allowed  to  resume  their  masks,  there  was 
nothing  they  were  more  infatuated  with  than  the  performance 
of  this  young  prima  donna ;  and  an  Italian  audience,  when  it 
takes  a  fancy  to  a  singer,  behaves  in  a  manner  incomprehensible 
to  people  not  accustomed  to  such  vehement  demonstrations. 

Marietta  Piccolomini  was  the  idol  of  the  Siennese  that  sea- 
son, and  the  opera  of  Z«  Traviata,  condemned  in  the  other 
theatres  of  Italy,  but  triumphantly  revived  by  her,  was  the  fa- 
vorite piece  of  the  Carnival.  Marietta,  who  had  been  born  in 
Sienna  in  1834,  was  a  descendant  of  the  Piccolomini  familv, 
which,  transplanted  by  Charlemagne  among  the  Gauls,  and  re- 
planted in  fertile  Italy,  had  bloomed  with  clusters  of  illustri- 
ous men.  One  of  the  principal  personages  of  the  family  was 
Pope  Pius  II.,  and  one  of  Marietta's  uncles  was  a  cardinal. 

Marietta,  though  the  descendant  of  a  noble  line,  had  taken 
it  into  her  head  that  she  would  like  to  become  a  singer.  She 
was  allied  to  the  most  distinguished  families  in  the  kingdom, 
and  was  to  have  a  respectable  dowry,  and  her  parents  were 
horrified  at  her  wish  to  become  a  vocalist.     From  the  age  of 


•G^ 


J:94  QUEENS    OP   SONG. 

four  years  Marietta  had  amused  herself  at  playing  at  mock 
representatious ;  she  used  to  sing  duets  with  her  mother,  a 
skillful  amateur ;  and  she  had  been  instructed  by  Romani,  one 
of  the  first  professional  teachers  in  Italy.  Long  did  she  im- 
plore her  father  to  allow  her  to  appear  on  the  stage.  At  last 
her  entreaties  j)revailed.  She  was  permitted  to  follow  her  own 
fancies,  and  she  made  her  debut  at  Kome,  November,  1852,  in 
the  operas  of  Poliuto  and  Don  Mucefalo^  under  the  guidance 
of  her  teacher,  Romani.  Then  she  appeared  at  her  native  town 
of  Sienna,  from  whence  she  went  to  Florence,  where  she  per- 
formed in  Lucrezia  JBorgia  with  immense  success.  She  was 
scarcely  sixteen,  and  being  naturally  of  a  juvenile  aspect,  she 
appeared  then  a  mere  child.  However,  although  she  had  not 
the  commanding  presence  of  the  haughty  Lucrezia,  she  sang 
very  captivatingly,  and  the  opera  was  applauded.  In  the  scene 
where,  in  the  interview  with  her  consort,  the  Duchess  ex- 
claims, "  Tremble,  Duke  Alfonzo !  Thou  art  my  fourth  hus- 
band, and  I  am  a  Borgia !"  this  portentous  threat,  from  the 
lips  of  a  child,  was  so  irresistibly  droll,  that  the  audience  were 
seized  with  an  uncontrollable  fit  of  laughter.  Nevertheless, 
she  pei'formed  the  character  for  twenty  nights  successively. 
From  Florence  Marietta  ran  all  over  Italy,  like  an  enfant  gath^ 
intoxicated  with  the  pleasure  of  having  crowded  audiences  at 
her  feet.  She  was  free  to  choose  her  engagements ;  she  had 
only  to  present  herself  for  every  body  to  fly  in  ecstasy  to  hear 
her. 

At  Turin,  where  Ristori  had  first  made  herself  famous, 
Mdlle.  Piccolomini  appeared  in  November,  1855,  for  the  first 
time  in  La  Traviata,  which,  in  sjDite  of  her  youth  and  inexpe- 
rience, she  interpreted  with  so  much  talent,  that,  on  the  second 
night  of  her  performance  at  the  Teatro  Carignano,  a  vast  con- 
course of  i^eople  assembled  to  greet  her  as  she  came  forth,  and 
were  about  to  unharness  the  horses  from  her  carriage.  But 
Marietta  started  up,  her  cheeks  flushed,  her  eyes  sparkling, 
and  said,  indignantly,  that  "  men  should  not  put  themselves  in 
the  place  of  beasts.  Italy  had  other  and  nobler  uses  for  her 
sons."  Then,  seeing  that  they  were  determined  on  paying  her 
this  objectionable  homage,  which  she  was  equally  determined 
not  to  accept,  she  hurried  through  the  stage  door,  and  made 
her  way  on  foot  to  her  hotel.  On  another  occasion  her  house 
was  surrounded  at  midnight  by  an  excited  crowd,  "bent  on  jj 


3IAEtETTA   PICCOLOMIXI,  495 

manifesting  their  frantic  delight  at  her  musical  poAver,"  when 
she  came  forward,  and  "  sternly  rebuked  the  young  men  of 
Italy  for  their  levity,  and  pointed  out  how  they  could  more 
nobly  fulfill  the  great  object  of  their  existence." 

On  her  benefit  night,  December  16,  1855,  the  scene  was 
more  like  a  festival  and  a  public  triumph  than  a  theatrical 
representation.  The  doors  were  opened  at  half  past  three 
o'clock ;  in  a  few  minutes  the  theatre  was  filled  by  a  dense 
crowd,  which  waited  patiently  four  hours  for  La  Traviata 
and  the  darling  Piccolomini,  whom  they  had  heard  for  thirty- 
five  successive  nights  already.  Their  pet  singer  Avas  hailed 
with  an  uproar  of  dehght ;  flowers  were  showered  on  the 
stage,  and,  every  moment,  every  phrase  was  followed  by  the 
most  enthusiastic  applause.  The  performances  over,  there 
was  a  frantic  shout  for  the  vocalist,  and  such  fanaticized  ex- 
citement has  rarely  been  paralleled.  The  crowd  waited  till 
their  idol  had  quitted  the  theatre,  and  Avhen  she  appeared  at 
the  stage  door  they  gave  her  a  wildly  enthusiastic  reception. 
"Every  body  pressed  round  her  to  bid  her  adieu,  to  shake 
hands  with  her,  even  to  touch  her  dress ;  and  when  at  last 
she  got  into  her  carriage,  the  crowd  followed  her  to  the  hotel, 
shouting  'Viva  la  Piccolomini !'  She  had  scarcely  entered  her 
apartment  when  the  shouts  recommenced,  and  the  enchantress 
was  compelled  to  show  herself  in  the  balcony,  again  to  thank 
the  crowd,  which  completely  thronged  the  street." 

The  next  day  there  was  a  benefit  at  the  Teatro  Carignano 
for  M.  Bianchi,  first  violin,  and  ISI.  Anglois,  first  contra  basso, 
when  Marietta  was  to  sing  again.  The  prices  "vvere  raised, 
and  the  same  pieces  were  performed  as  on  the  preceding  day ; 
nevertheless,  every  seat  was  occupied.  This  brindisi  in  La 
Traviata^  sung  by  Mdlle.  Piccolomini  and  Signer  Massimilia- 
ni,  was  encored,  and  she  was  recalled  at  least  ten  times  after 
each  mor9cau.  Signor  Massimiliani,  the  tenor,  was  presented 
by  the  public  with  a  coronal  of  gold  as  a  souvenir  of  his  suc- 
cess in  La  Traviata  with  Mdlle.  Piccolomini.  At  the  end  of 
the  performance  all  the  artistes  were  recalled,  and  when  La 
Piccolomini  appeared,  the  audience  rose  and  waved  their  hand- 
kerchiefs as  a  farewell.  The  ovation  of  the  previous  evening 
was  renewed — men  and  women  ranged  themselves  in  a  double 
line  in  the  corridors  and  passages,  and  a  group  of  young  men 
detached  the  horses  from  her  carriage  in  order  to  draw  it  in 


496  QUEERS   OF   SONG. 

triumph  to  her  hotel ;  but  she  declined  this  honor,  and  passed 
slowly  through  an  almost  impenetrable  crowd,  which  accom- 
panied her  the  whole  way  to  the  door  of  her  own  apartment. 
They  began  cheering  again  when  she  disappeared  from  view, 
but  she  was  obliged  to  present  herself  several  times  to  thank 
them,  "  This  evening,"  she  said,  in  thrilling  accents,  "  will  be 
ever  remembered  as  the  happiest  of  my  life." 

The  proceeds  of  her  fourteen  uig-hts'  representations  were 
divided  among  the  poor. 

The  reports  of  Marietta's  triumiDhs  at  last  attracted  the  at- 
tention of  the  manager  of  Her  Majesty's  Theatre,  who  engaged 
the  charming  young  prima  donna,  and  she  appeared  for  the 
first  time  before  an  English  audience  in  Let  Traviata,  Satur- 
day, May  24,  1856. 

She  is  agreeable,  sprightly,  petite,  with  a  vivacious  grace  of 
manner  perfectly  bewitching.  Her  figure  is  slender  and  ex- 
tremely elegant ;  her  features  are  bright,  and  capable  of  ex- 
pressing the  rapid  transitions  of  varying  emotion,  from  arch- 
ness and  coquetry  to  tender  pathos  and  deepest  sorrow.  Hei" 
voice  is  a  high  soprano,  fresh  and  youthful,  but  in  range  per- 
haps a  little  more  than  two  octaves,  crisp  and  flexible,  pretty 
fluent,  and  rather  sweet  than  powerful.  Pier  musical  decla- 
mation is  excellent,  her  taste  pure.  Her  debut  was  a  decided 
success. 

May  5th,  she  appeared  as  Lucia  di  Lammei*moor.  There 
was  great  curiosity  to  see  how  she  would  treat  this  character; 
the  demand  for  stall  tickets  was  unprecedented,  and  extrava- 
gant prices  were  extorted;  not  a  box  was  unoccupied,  and 
every  portion  of  the  theatre  was  crowded.  The  ordeal  was  a 
trying  one;  but  Mdlle.  Piccolomini  passed  through  it  with 
eclat.  By  the  fasci;iation  of  her  manner,  her  perfect  appreci- 
ation of  the  requirements  of  the  stage,  her  undoubted  talent, 
and  by  a  peculiarly  skillful  means  of  managing  her  somewhat 
limited  voice,  she  showed  herself  a  most  excellent  performer, 
and  her  Lucia  was  a  veritable  triumph.  Some  passages  were 
inverted,  however,  to  bring  them  within  the  compass  of  her 
voice,  and  others  materially  altered  to  suit  the  capabilities  of 
her  vocalization. 

June  26th,  Mdlle.  Piccolomini  appeared  for  the  first  time  as 
Maria,  in  Z,a  Ftglia  del  IReggimento,  and  July  26th,  Don  Pa^- 
quale.    In  both  she  was  charming.     She  was  considered  to 


MARIETTA   PICCOLOMIXI.  497 

resemble  Soutag  more  nearly  than  any  other  singer.  Her 
small,  slight  figure,  her  graceful  manner,  her  coquettish  style, 
bore  a  certain  similitude  to  the  great  German  singer,  though 
in  point  of  vocalization  she  was  very  inferior.  She  also  per- 
formed Zerlina,  in  Avhich  she  was  bewitching,  though  her  con- 
ception and  singmg  w'ere  undoubtedly  faulty.  "  Mdlle.  Pic- 
coloraini's  Zerlina  is  one  of  the  prettiest  things  witnessed  or 
conceivable,"  exclaims  one  critic.  "  When  she  frisked  on  to 
the  stage  with  the  '  Giovinette,'  she  was  greeted  with  a  storm 
of  applause,  and  her  deliciously  coquettish  singing  and  acting 
of '  La  ci  darem,'  with  Signor  Beneventano,  produced  a  per- 
emptory demand  for  its  repetition.  The  other  well-known 
songs,  '  Batti,  batti,'  and  '  Vedrai  carino,'  were  sung  to  per- 
fection." 

With  very  few  exceptions,  Marietta  won  the  applause  of  the 
London  critics,  w'ho  found  it  impossible  to  find  fault,  even  with 
her  numerous  imperfections.  "  If  this  or  that  passage  in  La 
F'ujlia  or  Don  Pasquale  Avas  not  delivered  with  the  magnifi- 
cence of  voice  of  a  Grisi,  a  Persiani,  a  Sontag,  or  a  Lind,"  says 
one,  "and  clothed,  as  by  these  artistes,  with  an  abundance  of 
fioriturc,  perhaps  the  pen  Avas  inclined  to  record  that  the  vocal 
powers  of  the  performer  were  insufficient  for  the  important 
position  of  prima  donna;  but  the  ink  would  not  flow  till  the 
writer  was  resolved  to  pass  over  such  shortcomings,  and  to 
render  generous  tribute  to  dramatic  poAvers  more  intense,  and 
yet  more  refined,  than  were  ever  witnessed  in  so  young  a  can- 
didate for  European  fame." 

At  the  close  of  the  London  season  Mdlle.  Piccoloraini  Avcnt 
to  Dublin.  Her  first  appearance  on  the  stage  there  was  hailed 
with  "  one  unanimous  burst  of  welcoming  plaudits."  At  the 
fall  of  the  curtain  the  young  prima  donna  was  vociferously 
called  for,  and  then  nearly  buried  in  heaps  of  flowers,  while 
"peal  after  peal  of  cheering  echoed  through  the  house."  So 
cordial  a  greeting  Avas  rarely  accorded  to  a  debutante  on  the 
Dublin  stage. 

The  reception  which  she  had  met  Avith  in  England  Avas  faint 
compared  to  that  Avhicli  aAvaited  her  in  Paris,  where  she  ap- 
peared Saturday,  December  6,  in  La  Traviata,  Avhich  Avas 
then  performed  for  the  first  time  in  the  French  capital. 

Verdi,  who  did  not  like  his  operas  to  be  represented  at  the 
Italiens,  because  he  was  not  paid  for  the  right  by  that  theatre, 
32 


498  QUEENS   OP   SONG. 

tried  his  best  to  deprive  the  Parisians  of  hearing  the  charming' 
Sardinian  in  his  Traviata,  as  he  had  ah-eady  tried  to  prevent 
them  from  having  II  Trovatore.  He  demanded,  it  was  said, 
20,000  francs  from  the  director  of  the  Italian  Opera  (M.  Cal- 
zado)  for  "  permission"  to  perform  Bigoletto  and  La  Tramata^ 
which  the  director  refused  to  agree  to.  When  M.  Calzado  an- 
nounced La  Traviata,  M.  Boyer,  director  of  the  Vaudeville 
Theatre,  applied  to  the  President  of  the  Civil  Tribunal  for  an 
order  on  M.  Calzado  not  to  perform  the  piece,  on  the  ground 
that  the  libretto  was  taken  from  the  Lame  aux  Camelias^  by 
Alexandre  Dumas,  junior,  which  is  the  property  of  the  Vau- 
deville Theatre.  But  on  hearing  M.  Calzado,  the  president 
declined  to  interfere  in  the  matter. 

There  was  an  unusually  brilliant  and  fashionable  audience 
assembled  to  witness  the  debut  of  the  Sardinian  Nightingale. 
The  youth,  beauty,  and  fascinating  manner  of  the  piquant  lit- 
tle prima  donna  were  dilated  on  in  the  warmest  terms  by  those 
who  had  had  an  ojiportunity  of  hearing  and  seeing  her,  and 
her  reception  was  all  that  could  have  been  expected  by  the 
most  sanguine.  The  audience  were  enraj)tured  with  her.  Some, 
indeed,  who  had  unreasonably  anticipated  seeing  a  Grisi  or  a 
Malibran,  were  disappointed  when  they  beheld  this  simple 
young  girl  of  twenty  summers,  with  a  moderate  voice,  whose 
chief  attributes  were  her  bewitching  manner  and  perfectly 
original  style  of  acting. 

The  Parisian  journalists  were  for  some  time  irresolute  as  to 
the  terms  in  which  they  should  speak  of  the  petite  artiste.  One 
says,  "She  at  one  time  has  the  air  of  a  child;  at  another,  all 
the  appearance  of  mature  age.  She  sings,  but  is  not  a  canta- 
trice ;  she  plays  with  talent,  yet  she  can  not  be  called  an  ac- 
tress. At  one  moment  she  appears  inexperienced  and  simple ; 
the  next,  one  would  think  she  had  been  ten  years  on  the  boards. 
She  is  an  enigma — a  problem."  "  Mdlle.  Piccolomini  is  pleas- 
ant, petite^  slender,  sprightly,  and  bounds  on  the  stage  like  a 
gazelle,"  says  Scudo.  "  Every  thing  speaks  with  her :  her  pi- 
quant physiognomy,  her  expressive  eyes,  her  natural  attitudes, 
her  gestures,  every  thing — to  the  coquettish  way  she  tosses 
her  charming  head.  She  is  an  Italian,  but  an  Italienne  de  race, 
who  is  happy  to  pass  through  life  like  a  butterfly,  joyous  and 
free.  Her  voice  is  a  thin  soprano,  without  extent,  without 
timbre  or  brilliancy ;  one  might  say  that  it  was  one  of  those 


MAEIETTA  PICCOLOMIXI.  499 

French  voices  which  may  be  heard  at  the  Opera  Comique ; 
but  she  sings  with  such  intelligence  the  words  which  are  con- 
fided to  her,  she  sings  with  a  feeling  so  true  and  so  marked, 
that  we  almost  forget  her  faults.  It  will  not  do  to  analyze  too 
rigorously  the  talent  of  Mdlle.  Piccolomini ;  but  listen  without 
prepossession,  see  her  walk  with  grace,  turning  in  her  hand  a 
bouquet  of  violets,  and  do  not  think  whether  she  is  an  accom- 
plished vocalist  or  not.  She  is  an  enfant  Men  cloitee^  who  has 
much  to  learn ;  but  with  no  radical  faults,  and  possessing  an 
indefinable  charm  which  attracts  and  dehghts  you,  spite  of 
your  better  judgment.  After  certain  legitimate  reservations, 
we  may  say  that  Mdlle.  Piccolomini  is  not  an  ordinary  artiste, 
and  we  can  only  say  of  this  charming  child,  Elle  est  charmanteP 

The  empress  was  so  much  disappointed  at  being  prevented 
from  hearing  La  Piccolomini  on  her  debut,  that  an  imperial 
order  was  sent  to  M.  Calzado  for  an  extraordinary  perform- 
ance, which  accordingly  took  place  the  following  Monday, 
when  their  majesties  attended.  Piccolomini  performed  Za 
T^rawia^a  in  Paris  nineteen  times  in  the  course  of  two  months. 

April  12,  1857,  Mdlle.  Piccolomini  made  her  reappearance 
in  London  in  La  Figlia  del  Megglmento.  Ilcr  reception  was  an 
ovation — there  were  showers  of  bouquets,  storms  of  applause. 
She  also  performed  in  Don  Giovanni,  Lucia  di  Lammer- 
moor,  Le  Nozze  dl  Figaro,  etc.  Her  repertoire  became  more 
extended  this  season :  she  was  determined  not  to  be  satisfied 
with  the  negative  reputation  she  had  already  gained,  but  was 
anxious  to  improve,  being  conscious  of  the  real  defects  under 
which  it  could  not  be  denied  she  labored,  though  she  had  de- 
cidedly advanced  in  knowledge  and  practice  during  her  ab- 
sence. On  the  occasion  of  her  benefit  in  July,  there  was  a 
most  extravagant  demonstration ;  not  only  were  applause  and 
bouquets  rained  on  her,  but  among  other  offers  of  admiration 
was  a  white  dove,  which,  attached  to  a  wreath,  fell  fluttering 
from  one  of  the  boxes  on  to  the  stage ! 

Her  Majesty's  Theatre  being  closed,  Mdlle.  Piccolomini  made 
a  provincial  tour,  and  was  received  with  great  eclat  at  LKcr- 
pool,  Manchester,  Birmingham,  Glasgow,  Edinburgh,  Bath, 
Bristol,  Cheltenham,  Brighton,  and  other  places.  Then  she 
repaired  again  to  Dublin.  Li  Xovembcr  and  December  she 
went  with  Giuglini  on  a  "starring"  tour  through  Germany. 

February,  1858,  Marietta  reappeared  again  at  Her  Majesty's 


500  QUEENS    OF   SONG. 

Theatre  as  Arline,  in  Balfe's  opera  La  Zingara  {The  Bohe- 
mian Girt)^  with  Belletti,  Vialetti,  and  Giuglini.  She  was  re- 
ceived with  frantic  rapture,  and  literally  pelted  with  bouquets ; 
so  also  Avas  Signor  Giuglini — this  being  the  first  instance  of 
floral  offerings  being  made  to  a  gentleman.  The  charming  lit- 
tle prima  donna  already  contemplated  withrawing  from  the 
scene  of  her  triumphs;  and  April  18,  she  appeared  as  Yioletta, 
this  being  the  first  of  a  series  of  six  farewell  performances  pre- 
vious to  her  final  retirement  into  private  life.  She  did  not  ex- 
cite the  same  enthusiasm  as  formerly,  though  she  had  still  many 
ardent  admirers.  On  the  26th,  a  new  opera,  by  Signor  Cam- 
pana,  entitled  Almina^  written  expressly  for  Mdlle.  Piccolo- 
mini,  was  produced,  but  it  created  hardly  any  sensation.  In 
Abnina,  which  was  performed  three  times,  Mdlle.  Piccolomini 
took  her  leave  of  the  stage.  It  was  regretted  that  her  last  ap- 
pearances were  not  devoted  to  the  character  of  Violetta,  with 
which  she  had  become  so  identified. 

In  October,  ten  thousand  persons  were  attracted  to  the 
Crystal  Palace  by  the  announcement  of  the  farewell  benefit  of 
Marietta  Piccolomini  previous  to  her  departure  for  the  United 
States.  Every  reserved  seat  was  occupied — a  rare  occurrence 
in  that  vast  hall.  The  concert,  apart  from  its  exceptional  in- 
terest, was  not  very  remarkable.  e  programme  was  com- 
posed entirely  o"  pieces  from  known  operas  by  Verdi, 
Mozart,  and  P  ^etti.  Mdlle.  x  iccolomini,  who  sang  alone 
and  with  Sif  giuglini,  was  received  with  overwhelming 
plaudits.  Si  in  her  best  manner,  and,  in  addition  to 
many  airs  fiv  ^u  operas  (including  the  famous  JLihiamo), 
she  gave  '  oh,  the  once  favorite  song,  "  I  dreamt  that  I 
dwelt  in  marble  halls."  At  the  conclusion  of  the  concert  the 
entire  audience  rose,  and  waved  hats  and  handkerchiefs  with 
the  wildest  enthusiasm. 

Before  leaving  England  Mdlle,  Piccolomini  went  on  her  cus- 
tomary provincial  tour.  In  August  she  went  to  Dublin,  where 
she  performed  in  Do7i  Giovanni  with  Madame  Viardot  Gar- 
cia. •  Her  Zerlina,  although  not  one  of  her  finest  characters, 
and  though  her  voice  was  somewhat  overtaxed  by  the  music 
of  the  part,  was  applauded  with  rapture.  The  furore  of  de- 
light which  the  enchanted  Marietta  created  was  extraordinary. 
The  "  gallery  gods"  spontaneously  composed,  set  to  a  popular 
tune,  and  sang  in  her  honor  and  praise,  an  address,  wherein 


J 


MARIETTA   PICCOLOMINI.  501 

they  described  their  admiration  and  pleasure.  In  October  she 
appeared  at  New  York.  The  fevered  expectations  of  the  pub- 
lic caused  the  seats  to  sell  at  a  high  premium,  and  the  Ameri- 
cans were  in  raptures  with  the  charming  little  cantatrice. 

In  1859  (June  20),  Mdlle.  Piccolomini  reappeared  in  Lon- 
don, at  Drury  Lane,  in  La  Traviata^  with  Signer  Giuglini. 
She  appeared  also  in  La  Flglia  del  Heggimento,  in  Don  Gio- 
vanni, the  last  act  of  L  Martiri,  and  the  Bohemian  Girl.  Al- 
together she  performed  some  sixteen  or  seventeen  nights;  but 
nobody  cared  much  about  her.  From  London  she  went  to 
the  provinces. 

Mdlle.  Piccolomini,  in  1860,  married  the  Marquis  Gaetani, 
and  in  June,  1861,  she  sang  for  the  benefit  of  the  sufierers  from 
the  earthquake  in  Central  Italy. 

In  private  life,  the  piquant,  sparkling  little  heroine  of  La 
Traviata  is  one  of  the  most  delightful,  sportive  creatures  in 
existence.  It  is  charming  to  sec  her  with  those  whom  she 
loves.  Her  kindness  of  heart  has  been  lately  shown  by  her 
coming  to  London  expressly  for  the  purpose  of  singing  at  the 
three  complimentary  performances  at  Her  Majesty's  Theatre 
for  the  benefit  of  Mr.  Lumley,  who  offered  her  her  first  Lon- 
don engagement. 


b\j^  QUEENS    or   SONG. 


CHAPTER  XXXVIII. 

LOUISA   PTNE. 

Louisa  Pyne  was  scarcely  five  years  of  age  when  she  as- 
tonished her  parents  and  friends  by  the  beauty  of  her  voice, 
her  love  for  music,  and  the  fluency  with  which  she  could  re- 
peat airs  that  she  heard.  Such  gifts  were  not  to  be  neglected, 
and  some  of  her  relatives  being  in  the  musical  Avorld,  were 
well  qualified  to  judge  of  her  promise.  Her  uncle,  Mr.  Pyne, 
was  the  well-known  tenor  singer. 

Miss  Pyne  was  placed  with  Sir  George  Smart ;  and  so  quick- 
ly did  she  profit  by  the  instruction  of  that  master,  that  at  the 
age  of  ten  she  made  her  debut  at  the  Queen's  Concert  Rooms, 
Hanover  Square.  Her  voice  was  even  then  very  clear  and 
powerful,  and  amid  the  crash  of  more  than  fifty  orchestral  per- 
formers it  was  heard  distinctly.  She  was  rewarded  with  the 
most  enthusiastic  plaudits.  During  1841  and  1842,  the  con- 
certs of  the  "  Misses  Pyne"  in  London  were  veiy  fashionably 
attended,  and  the  rapid  improvement  of  the  sisters,  Susan  and 
Louisa,  was  especially  noticed. 

In  1847  the  young  Louisa  appeai'ed  in  Paris,  and  was  re- 
ceived with  great  favor.  A  pleasing  incident  marked  this  so- 
journ. The  secretary  of  a  society  for  the  education  of  home- 
less children  remarked  to  the  sisters  that  he  "  feared  it  must 
break  up  for  the  want  of  funds."  "  Oh !"  replied  the  kind- 
hearted  girls,  "  let  us  sing  for  them."  They  did  so,  and  the 
institution  was  saved. 

In  August,  1849,  Miss  Louisa  Pyne  essayed,  for  the  first 
time,  the  performance  of  opera,  at  Boulogne.  She  appeared 
as  Amina  in  ia  Sonnambula,  and  was  completely  successful. 
Two  months  later,  Mr.  Maddox  commenced  an  operatic  sea- 
son at  the  Princess's  Theatre,  and  Miss  Louisa  Pyne  was  en- 
gaged as  prima  donna,  Madame  Macfarren,  wife  of  the  emi- 
nent composer,  being  the  contralto,  Mr.  Harrison  the  tenor, 
and  Mr.  Weiss  basso.  The  theatre  opened  October  1  with 
Don  Giovanni  (in  English),  Miss  Pyne  performing  Zerlina. 


LOUISA  PYNE.  503 

Her  voice  was  a  lovely  soprano,  remarkable  for,  sweetness, 
compass,  flexibility,  and  resonance,  deliciously  true  and  beau- 
tiful in  quality,  though  slightly  veiled.  Her  intonation  was 
correct,  her  method  and  style  fine ;  she  had  the  utmost  fluen- 
cy, and  though  fond  of  indulging  in  the  most  dazzling  embel- 
lishments, all  her  ornaments  were  admirably  placed  and  ap- 
propriate. In  appearance  she  was,  as  every  body  knows,  pe- 
tite and  blonde,  with  a  most  agreeable  expression  and  a  pecul- 
iar piquancy,  her  face  sparkling  with  liveliness  and  intelli- 
gence. At  that  period  she  was  but  a  novice  on  the  stage,  and 
deficient  in  dramatic  energy;  yet,  disdaining  all  stage  trick- 
ery, she  evinced  an  original  conception  and  irreproachable 
taste :  there  was  a  simplicity  and  elegance  in  all  she  did. 

Miss  Pyne's  second  performance  at  the  Princess's  was  Ami- 
na,  and  her  charming  and  intelligent  style  and  beautiful  voice 
made  this  personation  most  striking. 

Mr.  Macfarren's  Charles  the  Second  was  produced  October 
27,  when  Miss  Pyne,  as  Fanny,  the  inn-keeper's  daughter,  her 
first  original  character,  achieved  a  triumph,  more  than  redeem- 
ing the  promise  of  her  debut.  She  sang  with  the  purest  taste, 
and  warbled  florid  passages  with  birdlike  ease  and  facility. 
"Miss  Louisa  Pyne  has  taken  the  town  by  storm,"  it  was  said. 
This  character  completed  the  triad  of  successes,  of  which  Zer- 
lina  and  Amina  constituted  the  supporting  figures.  She  was 
encored  in  each  of  her  four  songs,  and  also  in  her  duet  with 
Madame  Macfarren,  who  performed  Julian.  The  voice  of  Ma- 
dame Macfarren  was  a  contralto  of  considerable  compass,  round 
and  sweet.  Messrs.  Harrison,  Weiss,  and  Corri  performed  the 
leading  male  characters. 

In  the  summer  of  1850  Miss  Louisa  Pyne  was  singing  at 
Liverpool  in  opera,  performing  in  La  Sonnamhula^  etc,  with 
Mr.  Harrison  and  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Weiss.  Her  Amina  was  very 
much  admired.  She  represented  with  simple  truth  the  gentle, 
loving  village  maiden,  first  joyous  in  her  happy  aflection,  and 
then  crushed  with  luidcserved  grief  The  principal  feature  of 
the  conception  was  its  quiet,  subdued  mildness,  "Miss  Pyne's 
representation  is,  in  fact,  one  of  repose,"  observes  a  writer  of 
the  period.  "  It  is  a  personation  which  charms  by  its  simplic- 
ity, though  it  never  overwhelms  by  its  intensity.  We  can  not, 
perhaps,  give  a  better  idea  of  Miss  Pyne's  peculiarities  of  sing- 
ing and  acting  than  by  saying  that  she  is  somewhat  of  an  En- 


504  QUEENS   OF   SONG. 

glish  Sontag,  tbougb,  of  course,  we  do  not  intend  to  insinuate 
that  she  can  jjour  out  the  fluent  and  unapproachable  graces  of 
that  delightful  vocalist.  She  resembles  her,  however,  in  the 
graceful  delicacy  of  her  action,  and  also  in  the  surprising  ele- 
gance of  her  vocalization." 

In  the  spring  and  summer  of  1851  Miss  Pyne  was  at  the 
Haymarket  Theatre,  Mr.  Webster  having  engaged  an  excellent 
operatic  troupe  to  perform  on  alternate  nights  Avith  the  dra- 
matic company.  Miss  Pyne  was  supported  by  Mrs.  Harriet 
Cawse,  and  Messrs.  Donald  King,  Corri,  Weiss,  James  Bland, 
etc.  The  conductor  was  Mr.  Mellon.  The  company  commenced 
their  campaign  in  May  with  The  Croum  Diamonds,  when  Miss 
Pyne,  as  Catarina,  sang  brilliantly.  Other  operas  of  a  similar 
character  were  performed  during  the  season.  On  August  14 
of  this  year  Miss  Pyne  sang  at  the  Royal  Italian  Opera  in  II 
Flauto  Magico,  with  the  Italian  company,  before  her  majesty 
and  Prince  Albert.  She  next  sang  at  Windsor  Castle,  and  aft- 
erward at  Buckingham  Palace  on  several  occasions.  Every 
year  she  sang  at  the  various  musical  festivals.  In  the  course 
of  the  season  of  1852  she  sang  at  different  concerts,  the  Phil- 
harmonic, etc.,  and  she  continued  to  aj^pear  at  concerts  until,  in 
August,  1854,  she  embarked  at  Liverpool  for  America  with  her 
parents  and  her  sister  Susan,  accompanied  by  Messrs.  Harrison 
and  Borrani. 

She  made  her  debut  before  an  American  audience  at  the 
Broadway  Theatre,  October  9,  in  the  Sonnambula  in  English. 
The  house  was  crowded  in  every  part,  the  tickets  being  only 
half  a  dollar,  and  the  success  of  the  young  English  prima  donna 
was  decided.  She  took  New  York  by  storm,  and  presents  of 
every  imaginable  kind,  and  of  great  value,  were  showered  on 
her.  The  Sonnambula  was  followed  by  the  Bohemian  Girl 
and  by  3Iaritana,  the  latter  being  personally  directed  by  Mr. 
Wallace.  The  American  journalists  were  horrified  at  the  bad 
moral  of  Maritana,  but  captivated  with  the  music  and  with 
the  talent  of  the  prima  donna. 

At  the  termination  of  her  engagement  in  New  York  Miss 
Pyne  was  serenaded  at  her  private  residence,  and  throughout 
the  Union  she  met  with  the  same  flattering  reception.  New 
Orleans  was  bewitched,  and  Cincinnati  was  unable  to  express 
its  delight;  altogether,  the  tour  was  highly  satisfactory  in 
every  respect. 


LOUISA  PYNE.  505 

Witli  tlie  exception  of  Jenny  Lind's  engagement,  jMiss 
Pyne's  farewell  performances  at  New  York  were  unexampled 
for  enthusiasm.  After  her  last  appearance  on  the  stage  a 
deputation  of  ladies  and  gentlemen  waited  upon  her  at  her 
hotel,  and  presented  her  with  a  magnificent  gold  bracelet  as  a 
token  of  "  admiration  for  her  talent  and  esteem  for  her  private 
virtues."  In  America  Miss  Pyne's  bounty  was  spontaneous 
and  generous ;  the  Blind  and  the  Lunatic  Asylums,  the  High 
Schools  of  New  York,  and  many  other  charitable  institutions, 
were  all  largely  benefited  by  the  free  and  unsolicited  exercise 
of  the  talents  of  our  English  jirima  donna. 

After  an  absence  of  more  than  three  years,  she  presented 
herself  once  more  before  her  London  admirers,  having,  in  con- 
junction with  Mr.  Harrison,  taken  the  Lyceum  Theatre  for  a 
season  of  three  months.  On  September  21, 1857,  she  appeared 
in  The  Croicn  Diamonds,  which  was  performed  alternately 
with  the  Huguenots,  both  operas  being  well  put  on  the  stage. 
It  was  noticed  that  Miss  Pyne's  transatlantic  experiences  had 
given  her  much  confidence  and  knowledge  of  the  stage,  both 
in  singing  and  acting,  while  her  voice,  though  it  had  lost  some- 
what of  its  power,  had  gained  in  mellowness  and  richness. 
The  Rose  of  Castile,  a  new  opera  by  Mr.  Balfe,  was  produced 
October  29.  Miss  Pyne  sang  and  acted,  from  the  beginning 
of  this  opera  to  the  end,  with  a  fire,  force,  and  finish  which 
won  for  her  the  highest  applause,  and  justified  her  in  taking 
the  first  rank  in  her  art.  In  1858  the  Pyne  and  Harrison  Com- 
pany were  at  Drury  Lane.  The  operas  performed  were  the 
Hose  of  Castile,  Flotow's  3farf/ia,  Maritana,  Croicn  Dior 
monds,  the  Bohemian  Girl,  the  Trovatore,  and  the  Daughter 
of  the  Regiment,  the  last  being  for  the  benefit  of  Miss  Pyne, 
who  appeared  as  Maria  for  the  first  time  in  London.  She 
sang  the  music  of  the  Vivandiere  with  exceeding  brilliancy 
and  admirable  taste. 

In  1859  the  English  Opera  company  was  at  Covent  Garden, 
commencing  October  9  with  Meyerbeer's  Dinorah.  Embold- 
ened by  the  success  of  the  preceding  season,  the  management 
considerably  increased  the  strength  of  their  company,  and 
made  extensive  arrangements  in  every  department.  In  pro- 
ducing Dinorah  on  the  English  stage  and  as  an  English  opera, 
the  original  modeling  of  the  Opera  Comique  was  restored, 
and  the  Italian  recitatives  Avere  replaced  by  dialogue.     Miss 

Y 


506  QUEENS   OP  SONG. 

Pyne  surprised  even  her  most  enthusiastic  admirers  by  her 
performance  of  the  graceful  heroine.  "That  Miss  Louisa 
Pyne  would  make  Dinorah  one  of  those  brilliant  and  marvel- 
ous feats  of  vocalism  that  she  alone  of  all  English  singers  can 
accomplish,  was  expected  by  every  one,"  says  a  critic,  noticing 
the  performance;  "but  that  she  should  have  so  greatly  eclipsed 
all  her  previous  realizations  was  scarcely  to  have  been  antici- 
pated; yet  she  has  done  so,  and  her  rendering  of  Dinorah  will 
place  her  foremost  among  living  artistes,  whether  native  or 
foreign.  Meyerbeer  has  so  studded  the  jDart  with  difficulties 
of  the  most  elaborate  character,  and  written  the  pitch  so  high, 
that  scarcely  any  voice  can  touch  it ;  but  when  accomplished 
— and  accomplished  as  it  is  by  Miss  Louisa  Pyne — the  effect 
is  truly  marvelous.  Her  singing  of  the  opening  berceuse  was 
truly  exquisite,  but  in  the  Shadow  song  she  achieved  her  great- 
est success ;  for  any  thing  more  truly  beautiful,  finished,  and 
exquisite  in  the  execution  it  is  impossible  to  imagine — it  was 

the  perfection  of  florid  singing In  every  respect  we 

may  congratulate  Miss  Louisa  Pyne  uj)on  a  great  and  brilliant 
triumph,  not  alone  as  a  singer,  but  also  as  an  actress." 

The  English  version  of  II  Trovatore  was  also  produced,  and 
later  in  the  season  /Satanella  and  Bicmca  by  Mr.  Balfe.  Mr, 
Wallace's  Lvrline  was  brought  out  February  23,  1860,  and 
created  a  great  sensation.  Miss  Louisa  Pyne  sang  most  bril- 
liantly. In  1861,  the  oj^eras  performed  were  .Bianca,  the 
Daughter  of  the  Regiment^  the  Domino  Noir^  Hiawatha^  Jjiir- 
line^  Maritana^  Mr.  Glover's  Ruy  Bias,  Hohin  Hood — a  new 
opera  by  Macfarren — Satanella,  Mr,  Linley's  operetta  the  Toy- 
tnaher,  and  Mr.  Alfred  Mellon's  Victorine.  Early  in  1862,  Mr. 
Benedict's  Lily  of  Killarney  was  produced ;  and  a  new  oper- 
etta. Court  and  Cottage,  by  an  amateur  composer,  Mr.  Fred- 
erick Clay,  was  brought  out  on  Miss  Pyne's  benefit,  March  22. 

Miss  Louisa  Pyne's  performance  in  Le  Nozze  di  Figaro, 
when  she  took  the  place  of  the  American  prima  donna,  Mdlle. 
Kellogg,  at  Her  Majesty's  Theatre,  during  the  season  of  1862, 
Avas  universally  admired,  and  was  no  minor  triumi^h.  Of  the 
successes  achieved  by  Miss  Pyne  during  the  past  season  of  the 
English  Opera  Company  it  is  perhaps  hardly  necessary  to  speak, 
inasmuch  as  they  are  fresh  in  the  memory  of  all  her  admirers. 

Miss  Louisa  Pyne  is  twenty-eight  years  of  age,  having  been 
born  in  1835. 


TERESA  TIETJENS.  607 


CHAPTER  XXXIX. 

TEEESA  TIETJENS. 

Teresa  Tietjens  is  descended  from  an  ancient  and  noble 
family.  Her  parents,  who  were  of  Hungarian  extraction,  re- 
sided in  Hamburg,  where  Teresa  was  born  in  June,  1834. 

Like  most  great  lyric  artists,  Teresa  dis^Dlayed  an  early  taste 
for  music.  Her  parents  lost  no  time  in  obtaining  for  her  the 
best  instruction,  and  when  she  was  twelve  years  old  she  was 
under  the  care  of  an  eminent  professor.  When  only  fourteen, 
she  possessed  a  voice  of  remarkable  power  and  marvelous 
sweetness;  and  as  it  became  developed,  it  was  found  to  be  a 
high  soprano  of  extensive  register,  ranging  from  C  below  the 
Une  to  D  in  alt,  and  of  superb  quality — clear,  resonant,  and 
perfectly  pure.  Such  a  voice  required  nothing  but  cultivation 
to  yield  fame  and  fortune;  and  Mdlle.  Tictjens  was  according- 
ly sent  to  Vienna,  to  study  under  the  best  masters  in  Ger- 
many. With  an  enthusiastic  passion  for  the  profession  she 
was  about  to  enter,  she  applied  herself  with  ardor  to  her 
studies,  and  in  a  very  short  time  she  had  acquired  sufficient 
science  to  commence  her  career. 

On  her  return  to  Hamburg  she  readily  obtained  an  engage- 
ment at  the  principal  theatre  in  that  city,  and  made  her  first 
appearance  before  a  public  audience  in  April,  1849.  With  the 
daring  confidence  of  youth,  she  seized  on  the  splendid,  scduc 
tive  role  of  Luerezia  Borgia,  without  reflecting  on  the  difticul- 
ties  it  presented — difticulties  which  only  the  powers  of  a  Grisi 
could  conquer.  At  that  time  Teresa  was  little  more  than  fif- 
teen, and  although  of  a  tall,  commanding  figure,  she  Avas,  of 
course,  very  girlish  in  aspect.  It  may  easily  be  conjectured 
that  her  first  assumption  of  tlie  character  of  the  haughty  Duch- 
ess was  not  a  complete  success,  yet  it  was  for  from  proving  a 
failure :  she  Avon  applause,  and  was  encouraged  to  persevere. 
On  her  second  representation  she  was  more  confident,  and  her 
voice  more  mider  her  control ;  she  consequently  met  Avith  the 
most  flattering  reception.     She  appeared  night  after  night  in 


508  QUEENS    OF   SONG. 

the  same  opera,  with  iucredible  success,  until  at  length  her 
rejjutation  became  firmly  established.  To  perform  Lucrezia 
Borgia  successfully  at  fifteen  was  an  augury  of  future  triumph. 

Her  first  appearances  were  marked  by  a  romantic  interest. 
Mdlle.  Tietjens  happened  to  captivate  a  rich  young  gentleman, 
who  offered  her  his  hand,  but  required  her  to  relinquish  the 
stage.  She  refused  to  comply  with  this  requisition,  and  reject- 
ed his  offer  of  mariiage.  Her  father  being  dead,  the  young  ar- 
tiste was  then  under  the  care  of  a  guardian,  and  this  gentleman 
strenuously  urged  the  lover's  suit.  At  last  Teresa  consented 
to  retire  for  a  time,  on  the  understanding  that  if  her  inclina- 
tion for  the  profession  should  be  as  ardent  as  ever  at  the  end 
of  nine  months,  she  should  be  permitted  to  reappear  in  public. 
On  the  expiration  of  the  term  of  probation,  the  fair  songstress 
again  presented  herself  before  the  foot-lights,  and  her  luckless 
lover  disappeared. 

The  director  of  the  Royal  Opera,  Frankfort-on-the-Maine, 
having  heai'd  Mdlle.  Tietjens  at  Hamburg,  was  so  delighted 
with  her  splendid  voice  that  he  made  her  an  offer  to  sing  at 
his  theatre ;  she  accepted  his  proposal,  and  went  to  Frankfort 
early  in  1850.  Her  success  in  that  city  was  brilliant  and  de- 
cided, and  her  rej^utation  increased  so  greatly  that  she  received 
offers  of  engagement  from  various  European  capitals.  The  di- 
rector of  the  Imperial  Theatre  of  Vienna  undertook  a  journey 
to  Frankfort-on-the-Maine  exj)ressly  to  hear  the  new  singer, 
and,  if  possible,  to  secure  the  prize ;  and  her  engagement  with 
the  Opera  of  Frankfort  being  about  to  expire,  Mdlle.  Tietjens 
gladly  availed  herself  of  the  opportunity  of  singing  in  Vienna, 
where  she  made  her  debut  at  the  Imperial  Theatre  in  1856. 
Her  reception  by  a  crowded  audience  was  most  enthusiastic. 
She  appeared  in  the  part  of  Donna  Anna  (in  German) ;  and  at 
the  fall  of  the  curtain  she  was  recalled  no  less  than  four  times. 
The  manager,  finding  that  she  was  a  success,  at  once  secured 
her  services  for  three  consecutive  seasons,  and  she  became  a 
great  favorite  in  Vienna.  Before  the  conclusion  of  the  second 
season  Mdlle.  Tietjens  had  appeared  in  a  number  of  leading 
operas  :  Worma,  Les  Huguenots,  Lucrezia  Borgia,  Le  Nozze 
di  Figaro,  Fidelio,  and  II  Trovatore  ;  and,  on  the  sudden  in- 
disposition of  another  singer,  she  appeared  in  a  light  comic 
part,  when  she  won  golden  opinions. 

Mr.  Lumley,  hearing  of  Mdlle.  Tietjens  and  the  sensation  she 


^     TERESA   TIETJENS.  509 

was  creating,  started  without  delay  for  Vienna,  and  made  such 
regal  propositions  that  no  one  could  have  resisted  his  over- 
tures. Unfortunately,  the  youthful  cantatrice  had  signed  an 
agreement  with  the  director  of  the  Vienna  theatre  for  a  term 
extending  over  three  years,  of  which  two  only  had  then  ex- 
pired. Mdlle.  Tietjcns  was  therefore  unable  to  accept  Mr. 
Lumley's  temf)ting  offer ;  but  a  negotiation  was  entered  into, 
and  an  arrangement  eventually  made,  which  permitted  her  to 
come  to  England  for  three  months,  with  the  express  under- 
standing that  she  was  not  to  exceed  that  limit. 

Her  Majesty's  Theatre  opened  on  the  13th  of  April,  1858, 
with  Les  Huguenots,  when  Mdlle.  Tietjens  made  her  first  ap- 
pearance in  London  as  Valentine,  Giuglini  taking  the  part  of 
Raoul  for  the  first  time.  A  diflficulty  presented  itself  to  Mdlle. 
Tietjens  in  studying  her  part,  as  she  did  not  understand  Ital- 
ian ;  but  she  nevertheless  learnt  her  part  by  rote,  and  nobody 
would  have  suspected  that  she  Avas  not  perfectly  conversant 
with  the  meaning  of  every  syllable  she  uttered.  It  was  a  dan- 
gerous experiment,  but  it  proved  successful.  There  was  a 
crowded  and  fashionable  audience,  and  the  queen  and  prince 
consort  were  present. 

The  voice  of  Mdlle.  Tietjens  is  a  pure  soprano,  fresh,  pene- 
trating, even,  and  powerful;  it  is  unusually  rich  in  quality, 
extensive  in  compass,  and  of  great  flexibility;  it  has  a  bell-like 
resonance,  and  is  capable  of  expressing  all  the  passionate  and 
tender  accents  of  lyric  tragedy.    Teresa  Tietjens  is,  in  the  tru- 
est, fullest  sense  of  the  word,  a  lyric  artiste,  and  she  possesses 
every  requisite  needed  by  a  cantatrice  of  the  highest  order — 
personal  beauty,  physical  strength,  originality  of  conception, 
a  superb  voicc^  and  inexhaustible  spirit  and  energy.    Like  most 
German  singers,  Mdlle.  Tietjens  regards  ornamentation  as  mere- 
ly an  agreeable  adjunct' Hi  vocalization;  and  in  the  music  of 
Valentine  she  sang  only  what  the  composer  had  set  down — 
neither  more  nor  less — but  that  Avas  accomplished  to  perfec- 
tion.    Iler  performance  of  Valentine  is  irreproachable. 
I       As  an  actress,  her  tall,  stately,  elegant  figure  is  admirably 
/  calculated  to  personate  the  tragic  heroines  of  Opera.    Her  face 
('    is  beautiful,  her  large  eyes  flash  with  intellect,  and  her  classic- 
I     al  features  are  radiant  with  expression ;  her  grandeur  of  con- 
ception, her  tragic  dignity,  her  glowing  warmth,  and  abandon, 
\    render  her  worthy  of  the  finest  days  of  lyric  tragedy.    She  is 


510  QUEENS   OF   SONG. 

thoroughly  dramatic ;  her  movements  and  gestures  are  noble, 
and  entirely  free  from  conventionality ;  her  walk  is  easy,  while 
her  attitudes  are  classical  without  being  in  the  least  constrained. 
Her  second  jjart  was  that  of  Leonora,  in  II  Trovatore^  which 
she  has  made  her  own.  When  she  appeared  as  Donna  Anna 
in  Don  Giovanni^  she  took  the  house  by  storm  by  the  mag- 
nificence of  her  singing  and  the  intense  dramatic  force  of  her 
acting.    The  music  of  this  opera  suited  her  exactly. 

In  June  she  appeared  as  Lucrezia  Borgia.  The  qualities 
which  this  part  demands  are  precisely  those  with  which  Mdlle. 
Tietjens  is  endowed — tragic  power,  intensity,  impulsiveness. 
Her  commanding  figure  and  graceful  bearing  gave  weight  to 
her  acting,  while  in  the  more  tender  scenes  she  was  exquisite- 
ly pathetic,  and  displayed  great  depth  of  feeling.  "  Com'  e 
bello"  was  rendered  Avith  thrilling  tenderness,  and  the  allegro 
which  followed  it  created  a  furore :  it  was  one  of  the  most 
brilliant  niorceaux  of  florid  decorative  vocalism  heard  for  years, 
the  upper  C  in  the  cadenza  being  quite  electrical.  At  the  end 
of  the  first  and  second  acts,  the  heart-rending  accents  of  a 
mother's  agony,  wrung  from  the  depths  of  her  soul,  and  the 
stern,  haughty,  scornful  courage,  and  vengeful  fierceness  of  the 
Borgia,  were  contrasted  with  consummate  genius  and  harrow- 
ing truthfulness.  Grisi  herself  never  portrayed  this  great  char- 
acter with  more  power. 

Mdlle.  Tietjens  also  appeared  as  the  Countess  in  Le  Nozze 
di  Figaro^  but  with  less  marked  success. 

To  the  regret  of  the  London  public,  Mdlle.  Tietjens  was 
obliged  to  return  to  Vienna  early  in  the  autumn,  to  complete 
her  engagement  there,  the  manager  refusing  to  extend  her  • 
conge.     From  Austria  she  went  to  Italy,  with  the  object  of 
acquiring  facility  in  the  Italian  language,  and  she  was  there 
met  by  Mr.  E.  T.  Smith,  who  instantly  engaged  her  for  his 
Italian  Opera  at  Drury  Lane  Theatre.     Mdlle.  Tietjens  inau- 
gurated her  second  London  season  by  appearing  May  3, 1859,  \ 
in  the  part  of  Lucrezia  Borgia;  and  having  acquired  a  com-  \ 
plete  command  of  the  Italian  language,  she  sang  and  acted  \ 
smore  magnificently  than  ever, 

{     Mdlle.  Tietjens  then  appeared  successively  in  II  Trovatore, 

'  Don  Giovanni,  Les  Suguenots,  and  Norma,  which  last  she 

performed  for  the  first  time  in  England,  achieving  a  triumph, 

though  her  performance  was  too  much  imbued  with  Teutonic 


TERESA  TIETJEXS.  511 

stiffness  to  bo  unreservedly  approved  by  the  lovers  of  Italian 
opera.  By  her  splendid  singing,  and  the  sustained  grandeur 
and  impassioned  energy  of  her  acting,  she  gained,  however, 
the  plaudits  of  the  unprejudiced.  July  26th  she  appeared  in 
Verdi's  Vepres  Siciliennes.  In  this  opera  she  "  sang  magnifi- 
cently, and  acted  with  extraordinary  vigor  and  passion."  At 
the  close  of  the  fourth  act,  when  Ilelene  and  Procida  are  led 
to  the  scaffold,  the  conflicting  emotions  that  agitate  the  bosom 
of  the  heroine  were  pictured  with  wonderful  truth  and  inten- 
sity by  Mdlle.  Tietjens. 

On  the  termination  of  the  season,  Mdlle.  Tietjens,  with  Sig- 
nori  Giuglini,  Badiali,  etc.,  appeared  in  Dublin,  then  at  Man- 
chester, Liverpool,  Leeds,  Glasgow,  Edinburgh,  and  other 
places.  Wherever  she  sang,  she  met  with  the  same  brilliant 
success  which  had  attended  her  in  London  and  at  the  various 
musical  festivals  in  England.  Her  fame  increased  every  year 
with  the  development  of  her  talents  and  skill.  The  season  of 
1860  at  Her  Majesty's  Theatre  opened,  under  the  direction  of 
Mr.  E.  T.  Smith,  with  Flotow's  Martha^  April  10th,  when  the 
principal  characters  were  sustained  by  Mdlle.  Tietjens,  Ma- 
dame Lemaire,  Giuglini,  and  Vialetti.  This  opera  was  not 
very  successful,  and  it  was  replaced  by  II  IVovatore,  in  which 
Mdlle.  Tietjens  was  supported  by  Madame  Borghi  Mamo,  Giu- 
ghni,  and  Vialetti.  April  1 7th,  Mdlle.  Tietjens  appeared  as 
Lucrezia  Borgia.  She  was  grander,  and  sang  more  superbly 
than  ever  in  this  part.  May  5th,  she  performed  Donna  An- 
na, Madame  Borghi  Mamo  being  the  Zerlina.  N'orma  was 
brought  out  three  days  later.  The  wondrous  German  canta- 
trice  had  singularly  improved  in  this  character,  and  her  sing- 
ing of  "Casta  Diva"  was  surprising.  She  essayed  the  part  of 
Semiramidc  for  the  first  time.  May  22d.  Although  her  exces- 
sive anxiety  to  acquit  herself  well  in  her  difticult  task  impeded 
the  full  exercise  of  her  powers,  her  performance  of  the  charac- 
ter was  splendid.  Her  singing,  though  at  times  gorgeous  and 
magnificent,  was  not  always  perfect;  but  her  acting  was  grand, 
powerful,  and  picturesque  in  the  extreme. 

"  In  Tietjens's  Scmiramide,"  says  a  critic,  "her  intellectuali- 
ty shines  most  from  its  contrasting  with  the  part  she  imper- 
sonates— a  part  Avhich  in  itself  nowise  assists  her ;  but,  as  in  a 
picture,  shadow  renders  a  light  more  striking.  In  the  splen- 
did aria  '  Bel  raggio,'  the  solfeggi  and  fioriture  that  she  lavish- 


512  QUEENS    OP   SONG. 

ed  on  the  audience  were  executed  with  such  marvelous  tone 
and  precision  that  she  electrified  the  house.  The  grand  duet 
with  Albonij '  Giorno  d'orrore,'  was  exquisitely  and  nobly  im- 
pressive, from  their  dramatic  interj^retation  of  the  scene." 
Mdlle.Tietjens  performed  also  mLes  Huguenots  and  in  Oheron. 

It  is  hardly  necessary  to  advert  to  the  triumphs  of  Mdlle. 
Tietjens  at  the  Crystal  Palace  Concerts.  In  1861  Mr.  Maple- 
son  took  the  Lyceum  Theatre  for  a  short  season,  commencing, 
June  8,  with  II  Trovatore.  Mdlle.  Tietjens  was  the  prima 
donna,  Madame  Alboni  the  contralto,  Signor  Giuglini  the  ten- 
or. "  Tietjens  is  the  most  superb  Leonora,  without  a  single 
exception,  that  the  Anglo  -  Italian  stage  has  witnessed,"  ob- 
serves one  admiring  critic.  Verdi's  Tin  Hallo  in  Maschera 
was  produced  June  15,  for  the  first  time  in  this  country,  and 
was  a  triumphant  success.  Mdlle.  Tietjens  appeared  to  the  ut- 
most advantage  as  the  energetic  heroine,  Amelia.  She  sang 
and  acted  her  part  magnificently,  and  her  singing  throughout 
the  entire  of  the  third  act  was  pronounced  one  of  her  greatest 
achievements.  This  season  was  a  very  arduous  one  for  Mdlle. 
Tietjens,  as  well  as  for  her  comrade,  Signor  Giuglini ;  for  they 
had  to  sing  at  the  Lyceum  three,  and  sometimes  four  times  a 
week,  besides  singing  at  the  Crystal  Palace  on  Fridays,  and  iat 
various  morning  and  evening  concerts.  The  principal  ojDeras 
were  II  Trovatore,  Liicrezia  Borgia,  Martha,  Les  Huguenots, 
Norma,  and  Don  Giovanni. 

Mdlle.  Tietjens  was  now  accepted  as  the  successor  of  Grisi, 
though  no  two  artistes  could  be  more  unlike  in  many  respects 
than  the  Italian  and  German  singers.  "But,"  one  critic  justly 
remarks,  "in  passionate  feeling,  energy,  power  of  voice,  and 
grandeur  of  style,  a  comj)arison  may  be  established.  In  cer- 
tain characters  Grisi  has  left  no  one  to  fill  her  place.  These 
will  be  found  mostly  in  Rossini's  operas,  such  as  Semiramide, 
Ninetta,  Desdemona,  Pamira  {HAssedio  cU  Corinto),  Elene, 
etc.,  to  which  we  may  add  Elvira  in  I  Puritani,  written  ex- 
pressly for  her.  In  not  one  of  these  parts  has  any  body  crea- 
ted an  impression  since  she  sang  them.  They  all  belong  to  the 
repertoire  of  pure  Italian  song,  of  which  Giulietta  Grisi  was 
undoubtedly  the  greatest  mistress  since  Pasta.  That  Mdlle. 
Tietjens  could  not  contend  with  her  on  her  own  Ausonian 
soil  no  one  will  deny.  Her  means,  her  compass,  her  instincts, 
all  forbade.     There  is,  however,  one  exception  —  Norma,  in 


TERESA  TIETJENS.  513 

which  the  German  singer  may  challenge  comparison  with  the 
Italian,  and  in  which  slie  occasionally  surpasses  her.  In  the 
French  and  German  repertoire  the  younger  artiste  has  a  de- 
cided advantage  over  the  elder,  in  possessing  a  voice  of  such 
extent  as  to  be  enabled  to  execute  the  music  of  the  composers 
without  alteration  of  any  kind.  Every  body  knows  that  Mdlle. 
Tietjens  has  not  only  one  of  the  most  magnificent  and  power- 
ful voices  ever  heard,  but  also  one  of  the  most  extraordinary  in 
compass.  To  sing  the  music  of  Donna  Anna,  Fidelio,  Valen- 
tine, etc.,  without  transposition  or  change,  and  to  sing  it  with 
power  and  effect,  is  granted  to  few  artistes.  Mdlle.  Tietjens  is 
one  of  these  great  rarities,  and  therefore,  without  any  great 
stretch  of  compliment,  we  may  assert  that,  putting  aside  the 
Rossinian  repertoire,  she  is  destined  to  wear  the  mantle  of 
Grisi." 

In  no  previous  season  was  Mdlle.  Tietjens  so  poptilar  or  so 
much  admired  as  during  the  season  of  1802.  Her  most  remark- 
able performance  was  the  character  of  Alice,  in  Meyerbeer's 
Robert  le  Diable.  "  Mdlle.  Tietjens's  admirable  personation 
of  Alice,"  observes  the  critic  of  a  leading  daily  paper,  "  must 
raise  her  to  a  still  higher  rank  in  public  estimation  than  that 
she  has  hitherto  so  long  sustained.  Each  of  the  three  acts  in 
which  the  German  soprano  was  engaged  won  a  separate  tri- 
umph for  her.  We  are  tired  of  perpetually  expatiating  on  the 
splendid  brightness,  purity,  and  clearness  of  her  glorious  voice, 
and  on  the  absolute  certainty  of  her  intonation ;  but  these  mere 
physical  requisites  of  a  great  singer  are  in  themselves  most  un- 
common. Irrespectively  of  the  lady's  clever  vocalization,  and 
of  the  strong  dramatic  impulse  which  she  evinces,  there  is  an 
actual  sensual  gratification  in  listening  to  her  sujicrb  voice  sing- 
ing with  immovable  certainty  in  perfect  tune.  Her  German 
education,  combined  with  long  practice  in  Italian  opera,  pecul- 
iarly fit  Mdlle.  Tietjens  for  interpreting  the  music  of  Meyer- 
beer, who  is  equally  a  disciple  of  both  schools." 

All  the  journals  agreed  in  praising  with  raptui-e  this  superb 
performance.  From  the  delicious  romance,  "  Va,  dit-clle,"  to 
the  final  trio,  her  singing  and  her  acting  were  unrivaled  since 
the  days  of  Jenny  Lind.  Her  glorious  voice  thrilled  through 
the  house  in  a  flood  of  rich  melody,  and  never  was  her  intona- 
tion more  unerring,  more  faultless.  Her  Norma  was  more 
splendid  than  ever.  The  rendering  of  "Casta  Diva"  was  ex- 
33  Y  2 


514  QUEENS   OF   SONG. 

quisitely  refined,  and  in  the  final  duet  with  Pollio  she  produced 

a  sensation  unequaled  since  the  golden  days  of  Giulia  Grisi. 

During  the  present  season — 1863 — the  popular  German  prima 

donna  has  performed  at  Her  Majesty's  Theatre. 

j       In  private  life  Mdlle.  Tietjens  is  much  beloved  and  esteem- 

']    ed.     She  is  exceedingly  kind  and  generous  in  disposition,  and 

•|  amiable  in  character.  j 


CHRONOLOGICAL  LIST  OF  OPERAS  AND  THEIR 

COMPOSERS. 


i 


LULLt. 

Cadmus.     Paris,  July,  1673. 
Alceste.     January,  1674. 
Thesee.     February  3, 1675. 
Atys.     January  10, 1676. 
Isis.     January  5, 1677. 
Bellerophon.     January  29, 1679. 
Proserpine.     1680. 
P>vche.     1682. 
P.'acton.     April  17, 1683. 
A;nadis.     January  15, 1684. 
Ruland.     March  8, 1685. 
Armide.     February  15, 1686. 
La  Grotte  de  Versailles.     1701. 
Iphigenie.     May  6, 1704. 

PURCELL. 
Dido  and  Eneas.  1677. 
The  Tempest.    1690.     King  Arthur; 

The  Indian  Queen ;  Tyrannic  Love  ; 

The  Prophetess.    1691.    Bonduca; 

Don  Quixote.     1095. 

SCARLATTI. 

L'Onesta  nell'  Amore.     Rome,  1680. 

Pompeo.     Naples,  1084. 

Teodora.     Rome,  1693. 

Odoacre.     Naples,  1694. 

Pirro  e  Demetrio.     Naples,  1697. 

II  Prigioniero  Fortunato.     1698. 

II  Prigioniero  Superbo.     1699. 

Gli  Equivoclii  nel  Sembiantc.     1 700. 

Le  Nozzo  co'l  Nemico. 

II  Mitridate  Eupatore. 

Laodicea  c  Berenice.     Naples,  1701. 

II  Figlio  dclle  Selve.     1702. 

II  Trionfo  della  Liberia.     1707. 

II  Medo.     1708. 

II  Martirio  di  Santa  Cecilia.     1709. 

II  Teodoro.     Naples,  1 709. 

Giro  Riconosciuto.     Rome,  1712. 

Porsenna.     Naples,  1713. 

Scipione  nelle  Spagne.    Naples,1714. 

L'Amor  Gencroso.     Naples,  1714, 

Arminio.     Naples,  1714. 


II  Tigrane.     Naples,  1715. 

Carlo,  Re  d'Allemagna.     1716. 

La  Virtii  trionfante  dell'  Odio  e  dell' 

Amore.     Naples,  1716. 
II  Trionfo  dell'  Onore.    Naples,  1718. 
IlTelemacco.     Rome,  1718. 
Attilio  Regolo.     Rome,  1719. 
Tito  Sempronico  Gracco.     1720. 
Tumo  Aricinio.     Rome,  1720. 
La  Principessa  Fedele.     Rome,  1721. 
Griselda.     Rome,  1721. 
Didone  Abbandonata. 
La  Caduta  dei  Decemviri.     1723. 

HANDEL. 
Almira.     Hamburg,  1704. 
Nero.     Hamburg,  1705. 
Daphne;  Florida;  Roderigo.     1706. 
Agrippina.    Venice,  1707. 
Pyrrhus.     1708. 
Silla. 

Rinaldo.     London,  1710. 
Pastor  Fido.     1712. 
Teseo.     1713. 
Amadigi.     1715. 
Radamisto.     1720. 
Muzio  Scaevola.     1721. 
Floridante.     1721. 
Ottone ;  Giulio  Cesare.     1723. 
Tamerlane. 
Ilodelinda.     1725. 
Alexander;  Scipio.     1726. 
Admetus  ;  Ricardo  Primo.     1727. 
Siroe;  Tolomeo.     1728. 
Lothario.     1729. 
Parthenope.     1730. 
Poro.     1731. 

Acis  and  Galatea.     London,  1731. 
iEtius  (or  Ezio).     London,  1732. 
Sosarme;  Orlando.     1732. 
Arianna.     1734. 
Ariodante ;  Alcina.     1735. 
Atalanta. 

Giustino;  Arminio;  Berenice.    1737. 
Faramondo ;    Serse.     1738. 


LIST    OF    OPERAS. 


Jupiter  in  Argos. 
Im.eneo.     1740. 
Deidamia.     1741. 


1739. 


VINCI. 
La  Silla  Dillatore.     1719. 
Le  Feste  Napolitane.     1721. 
Semiramide     Riconosciuta,    Rome ; 

Rosmira  Fedele  ;  Sii-oe.     1723. 
Farnace,  Venice ;  Caduta  de'  Decem- 
viri.    Naples,  1724. 
Astianatte  ;      Ifigenia    in    Tauride. 

Venice,  1725. 
Catone  in  Utica ;  Asteria.     1726. 
7'  Bigismondo,  Re  di  Polonia.    1727. 
Niidro   neir  Indie,  Naples ;  Di- 
bbandonata,  Rome.     1729. 

HASSE. 

mswick,  1723. 

nles,  1726. 

..itinia.     Naples,  1728. 
Dalisa.  .ice,  1730. 

Artaserse.     Venice,  1730. 
Arminio.     Milan,  1731. 
Cleofide.     Dresden,  1731. 
Cajo  Fabrizio.     Rome,  1731. 
Demetrio.     Venice,  1732. 
Alessandro  nell'  Indie.     Mil.an,  1732. 
Catone  in  Utica.     Turin,  1732. 
Euristeo.     Warsaw,  1733. 
Asteria.     Dresden,  1734. 
Senocrita.     Dresden,  1736. 
Atalanta.     Dresden,  1737. 
La  Clemenzadi  Tito.    Dresden,  1737. 
Alfonso.     Dresden,  1738. 
Irene.     Dresden,  1738. 
Demetrio.     Dresden,  1739. 
Artaserse.     Dresden,  1740. 
Olimpia  in  Eruda.     London,  1740. 
Numa  Tompilio.     Dresden,  1741. 
Lncio  Papirio.     1742. 
Didone  Abbandonata.     1742. 
L'Asilo  d'Amore.     1743. 
Antigono.     1744. 
Arminio.     1745. 

LaSpartana;  Semiramide.     1747. 
Demofoonte.     1748. 
U  Natale  di  Giove.     1749. 
Attilio  Regolo.     1750. 
Giro  Riconosciuto.     1751. 
Ipermestra ;  Leucippo.     1751. 
Solimanno.     1752. 
Adriano  in  Siria.     1752, 
Arminio.      1753. 
Artemisia.     1754. 


L'Olimpiade.     1756. 

Nitetti.     1759. 

II  Trionfo  di  Clelia.     Dresden,  1761. 

Siroe.     Vienna,  1763. 

Zenobia.     Vienna,  1763. 

Romolo  ed  Ersilia.    Innspruck,  1765. 

Partenope.     Vienna,  1767. 

Ruggiero.     Milan,  1770. 

GALUPPI. 

Gli  Amici  Rivali.     1722. 
La  Fede  nell'  Incostanza. 
Dorindo.     1729. 
Odio  Placato.     1730. 
Argenside.     1733. 
Arabizione  Depressa.     1735. 
Elisa,  Regina  di  Tiro.     1736. 
La  ninfa  Apollo. 
Tamiri. 
Ergilda. 
Avilda.     1737. 

Gustavo  I.  Re  di  Swieza.     1740. 
Aronte,  Re  de'  Sciti. 
Berenice.     1741. 
Madame  Ciana.     1744. 
L'Ambizione  Delusa. 
La  Liberia  Nociva. 
Forze  d'Amore.     1745. 
Scipione  uelle  Spagne.     1746. 
Arminio.     1747. 
Arcadio  in  Brento.    1749. 
II  Page  della  Cucagna.     1750. 
Arcifanfo,  Re  di  Matti. 
Alcimena,  Principessa  dell'  Isolc  For- 
tunate. 
II  Mondo  della  Luna. 
La  Mascherata.     1751. 
Ermelinda.     1752. 
II  Mondo  alia  Rovescia. 
II  Centi  Caramela. 
Le  Virtuose  Ridicole. 
Calamita  de'  Cuori. 

I  Bagni  d'Abono.     1753. 

II  Filosofo  di  Campagna.     1754. 
Antigona. 

II  Povero  Superbo. 

Alessandro  nell'  Indie.     1755. 

La  Diavolessa. 

Nozze  di  Paride.     1756. 

Le  Nozze. 

Sesostri.     1757. 

Adriano  in  Sirio.     1760. 

L'Amante  di  Tutti. 

Artaserse. 

I  tre  Amanti  Ridicoli. 

Ipermestra. 


^ . 


LIST   OF   OPERAS. 


517 


Antigono.     1702. 

II  MarchesG  Villano. 

Viriate. 

L'Uonio  Femmina. 

II  Puntiglio  Amoroso. 

II  Hh  alia  Caccio. 

Cajo  Mario.     ITGl. 

La  Donua  di  Goverao.     1764r. 

PORPORA.* 

Ariana  e  Tesco.     Naples,  1717. 

Eum^ne.     Rome,  1722. 

Issipele.    Rome,  1723. 

Germanico.     Rome,  1725. 

Imeneo  in  Alene.     Venice,  1726. 

Sifiice.     Venice,  1726. 

Meride  e  Sclinunte.     Venice,  1727. 

Ezio.     Venice,  1728. 

Semiramide    Riconosciuta ;    Tamer- 

lano.     Dresden,  1730. 
Alessandro    nelle  Indie  ;   Annibale  ; 

Arbace.     Venice,  1732. 
Polvplip  "  ■  Ifigenia  in  Aulide ;  Ro- 

salb"-  a?  ^-  'f, 

Statir,  r^^=^^p^gp     ■; 

Temisi  "       "^g 

Le  Noz/'  ^        44. 

IlTrion-  v 

Sofonisba. , 

L'Olimpiade.     i.^... 

La  Clemenza  di  Tito.     1735, 

Achille  in  Sciro.     1740. 

(ENGi.isn  Ballad  Opeka.) 
The  Beggar's  Opera.     {Gay.)    Lon- 
don, January,  1728. 


Paris,  1733. 


RAMEAU. 

Hippolytc  ct  Aricic. 

Castor  ct  Pollux.     1737. 

Dardanus.    Paris,  November  19,1739, 

Pygmalion.     1747. 

Samson.     1747. 

Zorastre.     1749. 

Acante  et  Ce'phise.     1752. 

Les  Surprises  do  I'Amour.     1757. 

ARNE. 
Rosamond.     1733. 
Opera  of  Operas.     1733. 
Zara.     1736. 
Comus.     1738. 


1749. 


February  2, 1762. 


The  Blind  Beggar  of  Bethnal  Green. 

Fall  of  Phaeton. 

King  Pepin's  Campaign. 

The  Temple   of  Dulness.     January 

17, 1745. 
Don  Saverio. 
Britannia. 
Elisa.     1750. 
Cymon. 
Artaxerxes. 
Elfrida. 
King  Arthur. 
The  Guardian  Outwitted. 
L'Olimpiade.     April  25, 1765. 
The  Birth  of  Hercules.     1766. 
Achilles  in  Petticoats. 
Thomas  and  Sally. 
The  Ladies'  Frolick.     17' 

PERGOLESE. 

II  Maestro  di  IMusica. 

II  Geloso  Schernito. 

L'Olimpiade.     Rome,  1735. 

La  Contadina. 

La  Serva  Padrone.     Paris,  1752. 

Amor  fa  I' Homo  Cicco. 

Recimero. 

JOMELLI. 

L'En-oi-e  Amoroso.     Naples,  1737. 

Odoardo.     Naples,  1738. 

Ricimero.     Rome,  1740. 

Astiannasse.     Rome,  1741. 

II  Frastullo. 

Sofonisba. 

Ciro  Riconosciuto. 

Achille  in  Sciro.     Vienna,  1745. 

Didone.     Vienna,  1745. 

Eumcne.     Naples,  1746. 

Merope.    Venice,  1747. 

Ezio.     Naples,  1 748. 

L'Incantato.     Rome,  1749. 

Ifigenia  in  Tauride.     Rome,  1751. 

Talestri.     Rome,  1751. 

Attilio  Regolo.     Rome,  1752. 

Semiramide. 

Bajazettc. 

Dcmetrio. 

Penelope.     Stuttgart. 

Enea  nel  Lazio.     Stuttg.irt,  1755. 

II  Re  Pastore.     Stuttgart. 

Alessandro  nell'  Indie.     Stuttgart. 

Nitctti.     Stuttgart. 

La  Clemenza  di  Tito.     Stuttgart. 


•  Porpora  produced  (accordinj 
titles  have  not  been  preserved. 


;  to  Dr.  Burney)  more  than  fifty  operas  altogether,  but  the 


518 


LIST    OF    OPEKAS. 


Deraofoonte.     Stuttgart. 
II  Fedonte.     Stuttgart. 
L'Isola  Disabilita.     Stuttgart. 
Endimione.     Stuttgart. 
Vologeso.     Stuttgart. 
L'Olimpiade.     Stuttgart. 
La  Schiava  Liberta.     Stuttgart. 
L'Asilo  d'Amore.     Stuttgart. 
La  Pastorella  Illustra.     Stuttgart. 
II  Cacciator  Deluso.     Stuttgart. 
II  Matrimonio  per  Concorso.     Stutt- 
gart. 
Armide.     Naples,  1771. 
Ifigenia  in  Aulidc.     Naples,  1775. 

GLUCK. 

Artaxerxcs.     Milan,  1742. 

Demetrio.     Venice,  1742. 

Fall  of  the  Giants.*     London. 

L'Arbre  Enchante.     Paris,  1745. 

La  Cytliere  Assie'gee.     Paris,  1745. 

Telemaco. 

Orfeo  ed  Euridice.     Vienna,  Oct.  5, 

1762. 
Iphigene  en  Aulide.     Paris,  1774. 
Orphee.     Paris,  April  19, 1774. 
Alceste.     Paris,  April  23, 1776. 
Armide.     Paris,  January  17, 1779. 
Iphigenie   en   Tauride.     Paris,  May 

18, 1779. 
Echo  et  Narcisse.     Paris,  Sept.  24, 

1779. 

SARTI. 

Pompeo  in  Arminia.     1752. 

II  Re  Pastore.     1752. 

Medonte.     Florence. 

Demofoonte. 

L'Olimpiade. 

Giro  Riconosciuto.   Copenhagen,  1756. 

La  Figlia  Ricuperata. 

La  Giardiniera  Brillante.     1758. 

Mitridate.     Parma,  1765. 

II  Vologeso.     1765. 

La  Nitetti.     1765. 

Ipermestra.     Rome,  1766. 

I  Contratempi.     Venice,  1767. 

Didone.     17G7. 

Semiramide  Riconosciuta.     1768. 

I  Pretendenti  Delusi.     1768. 

II  Calzolajo  di  Strasburgo.    Modena, 
1769. 

Cleomenc.     1770. 

La  Clemenza  di  Tito.     Padua,  1771. 


La  Contadina  Fedelc.     1771. 

I  Finti  Eredi.     1773. 

Le  Gelosie  Villane.     1776. 
Farna9e.     1776. 
L'Avaro.     1777. 
Ifigenia  in  Aulide.     1777. 
Epponiraa.     Turin,  1777. 

II  Militare  Bizzarro.     1778. 
Gli  Amanti  Consolati.     1779. 

Fra  i  due  litiganti  il  terzo  gode,  1780. 
Scipione.     1780. 
Achille  in  Sciro.    Florence,  1781. 
LTncognito.     Bologna,  1781. 
Giulio  Sabino.     Venice,  1781. 
Alessandro  e  Timoteo.     1782. 
Le  Nozze  di  Dorina.     1782. 
Siroe.    Turin,  1783. 
Idalide.     Milan,  1783. 

I  Rivali  Delusi.     London,  Tuesdav, 
Jan.  6, 1784. 

Armida  e  Rinaldo.     St.  Petersburg, 

1785. 
La  Gloire  du  Nord.     1794. 

MONSIGNY. 

La  Servante  Maitresse.     1754. 
Aveux  Indiscrets.     Paris,  1759. 
Le  Maitre  en  Droit.    Paris,  1760. 
Le  Cadi  Dupe.     Paris,  1760. 
On  ne  s'avise  jamais  de  tout.     Sej)t. 

17, 1761. 
Le  Roi  et  le  Ferraier.     1762. 
Rose  et  Colas.     1764. 
LTle  Sonnante.     1768. 
La  Reine  de  Golconde.     Paris,  July 

4, 1779. 
Le  Deserteur.     1779. 
Le  Faucon.     1772. 
La  Belle  Arsene. 

Le  Rendezvous  bien  Employe.    1776. 
Felix;  ou,  I'Enfant  Trouve'.     1777. 

PAISIELLO. 

La  Pupilla.     Bologna.     1763. 

II  Mondo  alia  Roverscia.     Bologna. 
La  Madama  Umorista.     Modena. 
Demetrio.     Modena. 
Artaserse.     Modena. 

Le  Virtuose  Ridicole.     Parma. 
II  Negligente.     Parma. 

I  Bagni  di  Abano.     Parma. 

II  Ciarlone.     Venice. 
L'Amore  in  Ballo.     Venice. 
Le  Pescatrici.     Venice. 


•  In  addition  to  tlie  Fall  of  the  Giants,  Gliick  composed  about  forty-fire  operas  during 
hia  stay  in  London  (1T45  to  1763). 


LIST    OF    OPERAS. 


519 


II  Marchese  Tulipano.     Kome. 

La  Vcdova  di  Bel  Genio.     Naples. 

L'Imbroglio  dclle  Ragazze.     Naples. 

L'Idolo  Cinese.     Naples. 

Lucio  Papirio.     Naples. 

II  Furbo  mal  accorto.     Naples. 

Olimpia.     Naples. 

L'Innocente  Fortunato.     Venice. 

Sismanno  nel  Mogola.     Milan. 

L'Arabo  Cortese.     Naples. 

La  Luna  Abitata.     Naples. 

La  Contessa  del  Numi.     Naples. 

Semiramide.     Milan. 

II  Montesuma.     Milan. 

Le  Dardane.     Naples. 

II  Tamburo  Notturno. 

Andromeda.     Milan. 

Annibale  in  Italia.     Turin. 

I  Filosofi.     Turin. 

II  Giocatore.     Turin. 

La  Somiglianza  dei  Nomi.     Naples. 

Le  Astuzie  Amorose.     Naples. 

Gli  Scherzi  d'Amorc  e  di  Fortuna. 
Naples. 

Dora  Chisciotta  della  Mancia.  Na- 
ples. 

La  Finta  Maga.     Naples. 

L'Osteria  di  Mere-Chiaro.     Naples. 

Alessandro  nell'  Indie.     Modena. 

II  Duello  Comico.     Naples. 

Done  Anchise  Dampanone.     Naples. 

II  Mondo  della  Luna.     Naples. 

La  Frascatana.     Venice. 

La  Discordia  Fortunata.     Venice. 

II  Demofoonte.     Venice. 

I  Socrati  Imaginari.     Naples. 

II  Gran  Cid.     Florence. 

II  Finto  Principe.     Florence. 

Le  Due  Contessc.     Rome,  1777. 

La  Disfatta  di  Dario.     Rome,  1777. 

La  Serva  Padrona.     St.  Petersburg. 

II  Matrimonio  Inaspettato.  St.  Pe- 
tersburg. 

II  Barbicrc  di  Scviglia.  St.  Peters- 
burg. 

I  Filosofi  Imaginari.     St. Petersburg. 
La  Finta  Amantc.     Poland. 

II  Mondo  della  Luna.     Moscow. 
La  Nitetti.     St.  Petersburg. 
Lucinda  cd  Artcmidoro.     St.  Petcre- 

burg. 

St.  Petersburg. 
St.  Petersburg. 
Vienna. 


Alcide  al  Birio. 
Achille  in  Sciro. 
II  Re  Teodoro. 
Antigone.     Naples. 
L'Amore  Ingenioso. 


Rome,  1785. 


La  Grotta  di  Trofonio.     Naples. 

Le  Gare  Generose.     Naples. 

L'Olimpiade.     Naples. 

II  Pirro.     Naples. 

Gli   Schiave   per  Amore.     London, 

April  24, 1787. 
I  Zingari  in  Fiera.     Naples. 
La  Fedra.     Naples. 
Le  Vane  Gelosie.     Naples. 
Catone  in  Utica.    Naples. 
Nina  ;  o,  la  Pazza  d'Amore. 
Zenobia  di  Palmira.     Naples. 
La  Locanda. 
La  CulBara.     Naples. 
La  Molinara.     Naples. 
La  Modista  Raggiratrice.     Naples. 
Elfrida.     Naples. 
Elvira.     Naples. 
I  Vision  ari.     Naples. 
L'Inganno  Felice.     Naples. 
I  Giuochi  d'Agrigente.     Venice. 
La  Didone.     Naples. 
L'Andromacca.     Naples. 
La  Contadina  di  Spirito.     Naples. 
Proserpina.     Paris,  1803. 

I  Pittagorici.     Naples. 

SACCHINI. 
Semiramide.     Rome. 
Eumene.     Rome. 
Andromacca.     Naples. 
Artaserse.     Rome,  1762. 
Alessandro  nelle'  Indie.  Venice,  1 768. 
Scipione  in  Cartagine.     Padua,  1770. 
Ezio.     Naples. 
Nicostrate. 
Alessandro  Severe. 
L'Adriano  in  Siria. 
L'Eroe. 

Cinese.     Munich,  1771. 
Cailirhoe.     Stuttgart,  1772. 
Armida.     Milan,  1772. 

II  Gran  Cid.     Rome,  January,  1 773. 
L'Amore  in  Campa. 
Tamerlano.   London,  February,  1773. 
Vologeso.     Naples,  1773. 

La  Contadina  in  Corte.     Rome. 

LTsola  d'Amore. 

L'Olimpiade.     Milan. 

Lucio  Vero.   Naples,  December,  1 773. 

Nitetti.     London,  1774. 

Perseo.     London,  1776. 

L'Amore  Soldato.     London,  1777. 

Creso.     London,  January  2, 1778. 

Erifile.     London,  February  6, 1 778. 

II  Calandrino.     London,  1778. 


520 


LIST   OF   OPERAS. 


Enea  e  Lavinia.     1779. 
Renaiid,  Chimeae  (adaptations  of  for- 
mer operas). 
Armide.     Paris,  March,  1783. 
Dardanus.     Paris,  1784. 
CEdipe  a,  Colonne.     Paris,  1785. 
Arvire  et  Eveliua.     Paris,  1787. 

(English  Ballad  Opeea.) 
Love    in    a   Village.      {Bicherstaff.) 
London,  December  3, 1763. 

GOSSEC. 

Le  Faux  Lord.     17G4. 
Les  Pechcurs.     1766. 
Toinon  et  Toinette.     1767. 
Le  Double  Deguisement. 
Sabinus.     Paris,  1773. 
Alexis  et  Daphne.     1775. 
Phile'mon  et  Baucis.     1775. 
Hylas  et  Sylvie.     1776. 
La  Fete  du  Village.     1778. 
These'e.     Paris,  March  1, 1782. 
La  Reprise  de  Toulon.     1786. 

GRETRY. 

Le  Vendemiatrice.     Eome,  1765. 

Les  Mariages  Samnites. 

Le  Huron.     Paris,  August  20, 1768. 

Lucile.     Paris,  1769. 

Le  Tableau  Parlant.     Paris,  1769. 

Isabella  et  Gertrude.     Geneva,  1769. 

Zemire  et  Azor.     November,  1771. 

Ce'phale  et  Procris.     1775. 

Le  Seigneur  Bienfesant.    Paris,  1780. 

Andromaque.     Paris,  June  6, 1780. 

La  Double  Epreuve ;    ou,  Colette   a 

la  Cour.     Paris,  January  1,  1782. 
L'Embarras   des   Richesses.      Paris, 

November  26, 1782. 
La  Caravane.     1783. 
Panurge.    Paris,  January  25, 1785. 
Amphytrion.     1786. 
Denis  le  Tyran.     1794. 
Anacre'on.     1797. 
Richard  Cceur  de  Lion. 

ARNOLD. 

The  Maid  of  the  Mill.     January  31, 

1765. 
Rosamond.     1767. 
The  Castle  of  Andalusia.     1782. 
Peeping  Tom.     1784. 
Here,  There,  and  Everywhere.    1784. 
Two  to  One.     1785. 
Turk  and  no  Turk.     1785. 


The  Siege  of  Ciirzola.     178G. 
Inkle  and  Yarico.     Saturday,  Aug.  4, 

1787. 
The  Enraged  Musician.     1788. 
Battle  of  Hexham.     1789. 
New  Spain.     1790. 
The  Basket  Maker.     1790. 
The  Surrender  of  Calais.     1791. 
The  Children  in  the  "Wood.     1793. 
Auld  Robin  Gray.     1794. 
Zorinski.     1795. 
The  Mountaineers.     1795. 
Who  Pays  the  Reckoning  ?     1795. 
Bannian  Day.     1796. 
The  Shipwreck.     1796. 
The  Italian  Monk.     1797. 
False  and  True...    1798. 
Cambro-Britons.     1798. 
The  Veteran  Tar.     1801. 

MOZART. 

Mitridate.     1767. 

Lucia  Silla.     Salzburg,  1773. 

Zaide. 

La  Finta  Giardiniera.    Munich,  1775. 

Idomeneo,  Re   di    Creta.      Munich, 

1780. 
Die  Entfuhrung.     Vienna,  1782. 
Le  Nozze  di  Figaro.     Vienna,  April 
128,1786. 

D^n  Giovanni.    Prague,  Nov.  4, 1787. 
Cosi  fan  Tutte.     1790. 
Die  Zauberflijte.     1791. 
La  Clemenza  di  Tito.     1791. 

ANFOSSI, 

Cajo  Mario.     Venice,  1769. 

La  Clemenza  di  Tito.     Rome,  1769. 

II  Visionari.     Rome,  1771. 

II  Barone  di  Rocca.     Rome,  1772. 

L'Incognita    per    Seguitata,  Rome ; 

Antigono,  Venice ;     Demofoonte, 

Rome.     1773. 
Lucio  Silla,  Venice ;  La  Finta  Giar- 
diniera, Rome.     1774. 
II  Geloso  in  Cimento,  Eolne ;  La  Con- 

tadina  in  Corte  ;  L'Avaro.     1775 
Isabella  e  Rodrigo,  o  la  Costanza  in 

Amore ;     La    Pescatrice    Fedele ; 

L'Olirapiade,  Rome.     1776. 
II  Curioso  Indiscreto ;  Lo  Sposo  Dis- 

perato  ;  Cleopatra.     Milan,  1778. 
II  Matrimonio  per  Inganno.     Paris, 

1779. 
La  Forza  delle  Donne.     Milan,  1780. 
I  Vecchi  Burlati.     London,  1781. 


LIST   OF    OPERAS. 


521 


I  Viaggiatori  Felici,  London;  Ar- 
mida.     1782. 

Gli  Amanti  Canuti,  Dresden  ;  II  Tri- 
onfo  d'Ariana,  Prague ;  II  Cava- 
liere  per  Amore,  Berlin ;  Chi  cerca 
trova,  Florence.     1784. 

Didone  Abbandonata.     Naples. 

La  Vedova  Scaltra.     1785. 

La  Fiera  dell'  Ascensione ;  L'lmbrog- 
lio  delle  tre  Spose,  Padua.     1786. 

La  Pazzia  de'  Gelosi ;  Creso,  Rome  ; 
La  Villanella  di  Spirito,  Rome. 
1787. 

Artaserse,  Rome ;  L'Orfanella  Amer- 
icana, Venice ;  La  maga  Circe, 
Rome;  Le  Gelosie  Fortunate.  1788. 

La  Gazetta  ossia  il  Baggiano  deluso. 
Rome,  1789. 

Zenobia  in  Palmira.     Florence,  1 790. 

Issifile.     1791. 

II  Zottico  incivilito.     Dresden,  1792. 

L'Amcricana  in  Olanda ;  La  Matilda 
ritrovata ;  Gli  Artigiani. 

SALIERI. 
Le  Donne  Letterate.     1770. 
L' Amore  Innocente.     1770. 
Armida.     1771. 
II  Don  Chisciotte.     1771. 
II  Barone  di  Rocca  Antica.     1772. 
La  Fiera  di  Venezia.     1772. 
La  Seccliia  Rapita.     1772. 
La  Locandiera.     1773. 
La  Calamita  de'  Dori.     1774. 
La  Finta  Scema.     1775. 
Delmita  e  Daliso.     177G. 
Europa  Riconosciuta.     1776. 
La  Scuola  de'  Gelosi.     1779. 
II  Talismanno.     1779. 
La  Partenza  Inaspettata.     1779. 
La  Dam  a  Pastorclla.     1780. 
Dcr  Rauclifangkehrer.     1781. 
Les  Danaides.     178i. 
Semiramide.     1784. 

II  Ricco  d'un  Giorno.     1784. 
Eraclito  e  Democrito.     1785. 
La  Grotto  di  Trifonio.     1785. 
Les  Horaces.     1786. 
Tarare.     1787. 

Axur,  Re  d'Ormus.     1788. 

Cublai,  Gran  Can  de'  Tartan.    1788. 

II  Pastor  Fido.     1789. 

La  Princcssc   de   Babvlonc.     Paris, 

1789. 
La  Cifra.     1789. 
Sapho.     Paris,  1790. 


Catalina.     1792.        , 

II  Mondo  alia  Rovescia.     1794. 

Palmira.     1795. 

II  Moro.     1796. 

Falstaff.     1798. 

Danaus.     1800. 

Cesare  in  Farmacusa.     1800. 

Angiolina.     1800. 

Annibale  in  Capua.     1801. 

La  Bella  Selvaggia.     1802. 

Die  Negcr.     1804. 

HAYDN. 
Le  Diable  Boiteux.     Vienna. 
La  Cantarina.     17G9. 
Phile'mon  et  Baucis.     1773. 
Genevieve  de  Brabant.     1777. 
Didon.     1778. 

Le  Volcur  des  Pommes.     1779. 
Le  Conseil  des  Dieux.     1780. 
L'Incendie. 
Der  Zerstreute. 
Goetz  de  Berlichingcn. 
L'Incontro  Improviso. 
Lo  Spcziale. 
La  Pescatrice.     1780. 
II  Mondo  della  Inna. 
L'Isola  Disabitata. 
Armida.     1782. 
L'Infedelta  Fedele. 
La  Fedelta  Prcmiata. 
La  Vera  Castanza.     1786. 
Acide  e  Galatea. 
Orlando  Paladino. 
L'Infedelta  Deluso. 
Orfeo.     London,  1794. 
Didone  Abbandonata.     London. 

JOHN  CHRISTIAN  BACH. 

Catone.     Milan,  1 758. 
London,  1763. 
London,  1763. 
London,  1764. 
in  yiria.     London,  Jan. 


Orione. 
Zanaide. 
Berenice 
Adriano 
1765. 
Ezio.     London,  1765 


26, 


1' 


67. 
1769. 


Carattaco. 
L'Olimpiadc. 
Orfeo.     1770. 
Tcmistocle. 
Siface. 
Lucio  Silla. 

La  Clemenza  di  Scipione. 
Amadis  de  Gaule.    Paris,  Dec.  14, 
1779. 


522 


LIST   OF    OPEEAS. 


MARTINI. 
L'Amoureux  de  Quinze  Ans.     1771. 
Le  Fermier  Cru  Sourd.     1772. 
Le  Rendez-vous  Nocturne.     1773. 
Henri  IV;    ou,  la   Bataille    d'lvry. 

1774. 
Le  Droit  da  Seigneur,     1783. 
L'Amant  Sylplie ;  Saplio.     1794. 
Annette  et  Lubin.     1800. 

NAUMANN. 

Achille  in  Scire.     Palermo,  1767. 

Alessandro  nelF  Indie.    Venice,  1768. 

La  Clemenza  di  Tito.    Dresden,  1769. 

Le  Nozze  disturbate,  Venice;  Soli- 
manno.     1772. 

L'Isola  disabitata;  Armida,  Padua; 
Ipermestra, Venice;  II  Villano  Gelo- 
so,  Dresden ;  L'Ipocondriaco,  Dres- 
den; Elisa,  Dresden;  Osiride  ;  Tut- 
to  per  Amore,  Dresden ;  Amphion, 
Stockholm ;   Cora. 

Gustavus  Vasa,  Stockholm,  1780. 

La  Reggia  d'lmeneo,  Dresden;  Or- 
phe'e  et  Eurjdice,  Copenhagen. 
1785. 

La  Dama  Soldato.     Dresden,  1791. 

Amor  Giustificato.     Dresden,  1791. 

Protesilao.     Berlin,  1793. 

Andromeda ;  Acis  e  Galatea,  Dres- 
den, 1801. 

REICHARDT. 

Hanschen  und  Gretchen ;  La  Lan- 
terne  Magique  de  I'Amour. 

Le  Bucheron.     1775. 

Le  Sesse  Galanti,  Potsdam. 

La  Gioia  dopo  il  duolo.    Berlin,  1776. 

Ariencisia;  Andromeda;  Protesilao. 
Berlin,  1778. 

Ino.     1779. 

Procris  et  Ce'phale.     1780. 

L'Amour  seul  rend  heureux.     1781. 

Panthe'e.     1786. 

Brenno.     Berlin,  1787. 

Claudine  de  Villa  Bella.     1788. 

Lilla;  L'Olimpiade ;  Ervin  et  El- 
mire.     1790. 

Tamerlan,  Berlin ;  LTle  Sonnante, 
ou  des  Esprits.     1799. 

Piosamunda,  Berlin ;  Amour  et  Fide'- 
lite',  Berlin ;  Jery  et  Bately ;  L'Art 
et  I'Amour.     1801. 

Le  Chateau  Enchante'.     1802. 

L'Heureux  Naufrage,  Cassel ;  Brada- 
mante,  Vienna.     1808. 


CIMAROSA. 

II  Fitter  Parigino.     Rome,  1776, 
I  Due  Baroni.     Rome,  1776. 

I  Finti  Nobili.     Naples,  1777. 
L'Armida     Immaginaria.      Naples, 

1777, 
Gl'  Amanti  Comici.     Naples,  1777, 

II  Ritorno  di  Don  Calandrino.     1779. 
Cajo  Mario.     Rome,  1779. 

II  Mercato  de'  Malmantile.     1779. 

L'Assalonte.     1779. 

La  Giuditta.     Florence,  1779. 

L'Infedelta  Fedele.     1780. 

II  Falegname.     1780. 

L'Amante  combattuto  dalle  Donne 

Dispunto.     Naples,  1780. 
Alessandro  nell'  Indie.    Rome,  1781. 
Artaserse.     Turin,  1781. 
II  Conovito  di  Pietra.    Venice,  1782. 
La  Ballerina  Amante.     1783. 
Nina  e  Martuffo.     1783. 
La  Villana  Riconosciuta,     1783. 
Oreste,     1783. 

L'Erre  Cinese.     Naples,  1783. 
Olimpiade.     Vicenza,  1784. 

I  Due  Supposti  Conti.     1784. 
Giannina  e  Bernadino.    Naples,  1785. 

II  Marito  Disperato.     1785. 
IlCredulo.     1785, 

La   Donna    al   peggior    si    appigli, 

1786, 
Le  Trame  Deluse.     1786. 
L'Impresario  in  Augustie.     1786. 
II  Fanatico  Burlato.     1786. 
II  Sacrifizio  d'Abramo.   Naples,  1786. 
II  Valdomiro.     Turin,  1787. 
La  Vergine  del  Sole.     Milan,  1787. 
La  Felicita  Inaspettata. 
La  Locandiera.      London,  Jan.  15, 

1788. 
Atene  Edificata. 

Ninetta.     London,  Januaiy  16, 1790. 
II  Matrimonio  Segreto.  Vienna,  1792. 
La  Calamita  de'  Cuori.     1792. 
Amor  Rende  Sagace.    Vienna,  1792. 

I  Traci  Amanti.     1793. 
Astuzie  Feminili.     1793. 
Penelope.     Naples,  1793. 
L'Impegno  Superato.     Naples. 

II  Capricio    Dramatico.      London, 
March  1, 1794. 

I  Nemici  Generosi.     Rome,  1796. 
Gl'  Orazi  ed  i  Curiazi.    Venice,  1797. 
Achille  air  Assedio  di  Troia,     1798. 
L'Apprensivo    Raggirato.      Naples, 
1798. 


LIST    OF    OPEEAS. 


523 


SHIELD. 

The  Flitch  of  Bacon.     1778. 

Rosina.     January  1, 1783. 

The  Poor  Soldier.     1783. 

Kobin  Hood;  or,  Sherwood  Forest. 
April,  1784. 

The  Noble  Peasant.    August  4, 1784. 

Fontainebleau  ;  or.  Our  Way  in 
France.    Nov.  16, 1784. 

The  Nunnery. 

Love  in  a  Camp ;  or,  Patrick  in  Prus- 
sia.    February  22, 178G. 

Marian.     Thursday,  May  22, 1788. 

The  Farmer.     January,  1788. 

The  Prophet.     December  13, 1788. 

The  Crusade.     1790. 

The  Woodman.     1791. 

Hartford  Bridge.     1792. 

Midnight  Wanderers.     1793. 

Travellers  in  Switzerland.     1794. 

Mysteries  of  the  Castle.     1795. 

Arrived  at  Portsmouth.  January  13, 
1796. 

Lock  and  Key.    Tuesday,  Feb.  2,1796. 

The  Lad  of  the  Hills ;  or,  the  Wick- 
low  Gold  Mine.     April  9, 179G. 

Abroad  and  at  Home.  November  9, 
1796. 

Italian  Villagers.     1797. 

Two  Faces  under  a  Hood.     1807. 

PICCINI.* 

Le  Donne  Dispctose.     Florence. 

Le  Gclosie.     Florence. 

II  Curioso  del  Proprio  Danno.  Flor- 
ence. 

Zenobia.     Florence,  1756. 

Alessandro  nell'  Indie.    Komc,  1758. 

Cecchina.     Rome. 

L'Olimpiade. 

Roland.  Paris,  Tuesday,  Jannaiy  27, 
1778. 

La  Sposa  Collcrica.  Paris,  Oct.  20, 
1778. 

Le  Fat  Mcprise'.     1779. 

Lucette. 

Atys.  Paris,  Tuesday,  February  22, 
1780. 

Didon.     1783. 

Le  Dormeur  Eveille'e.     1783. 

Le  Faux  Lord.     1783. 

Diane  ct  Endvmiou.     1784. 

Penelope.     1785. 

Le  Mensonge  Officieux.     1787. 


CHERUBINI. 
Quinto  Fabio.     1780. 
Armida.     Florence,  1782. 
Messenzio.     Florence,  1782. 
Adriano  in  Siria.     Leghorn,  1782. 
Lo   Sposo    di   tre   Femine.      Home, 

1783. 
L'Idatide.     Florence,  1784. 
Alessandro  nell'  Indie.   Mantua,  1784. 
La  Finta  Principessa.    London,  May 

2,  1785. 
Giulio  Sabino.     London,  March  30, 

1786. 
Ifigenia  in  Aulide.     Turin,  1788. 
De'mophoon.     Paris,  1788. 
Lodoiska.     Paris,  1791. 
Elisa.     Paris,  1794. 
Mede'e.     Paris,  1797. 
L'Hotellerie  Portugaise.    Paris,  1798. 
La  Punition.     Paris,  1799. 
La  Prisonniere.     Paris,  1799. 
Les  Deux  Journe'es.     Paris,  1800. 
Anacreon.     1803. 
Achille  k  Syros.     Vienna,  1806. 
Pimmalione.     Paris,  1809. 
La  Crescendo.     1810. 
Les  Courses  de  Newmarket.     1810. 
Les  Abencerrages.     Paris,  1813. 
Bayard  a  Mczieres.     1814. 
Blanche  de  Provence.     1821. 
Ali  Baba.     Paris,  July,  1833. 

VOGLER. 

Der  Kaufmann  von  Smirna ;  Albert 
der  Drittc  von  Bayerk.  Munich, 
1781. 

Egle.     Stockholm,  1787. 

La  Karmesse.     Paris,  1783. 

Castor  ct  Pollux,  Mannheim ;  Gus- 
tavo Adolphe,  Stockliolm.     1791. 

Samori.     Vienna,  1804. 

ZINGARELLI. 
Montezuma.     Naples,  1781. 
L'Alsiiida.      Milan,  1785. 
II  Telemacco.     Milan,  1 785.. 
Rocimero.     Venice,  1785. 
Armida.     Rome,  1786. 
Ifigenia  in  Aulide.     1787. 
Annibale.     Turin,  1 787. 
Antigone.     Paris,  1789. 
La  Morte  de  Cesare.     Milan,  179 1. 
L'Oracolo  Sannito.     Turin,  1792. 
Pirro.     Turin,  1792. 


*  Before  hi ;  arrival  in  Paria  (17T6)  Piccini  had  already  composed  one  hundred  and  thirty- 
three  operas. 


524 


LIST   OF    OPERAS. 


II  Mercato  di   Monfregoso.     Turin, 

1793. 
La  Seccliia  Rapita.     Turin,  1793. 
Artaserse.     Milan  (Za  Scala),  1794. 
GF  Orazied  i  Curiazi.     Turin,  179-1. 
Apelle  e  Campaspe.     Venice,  1794. 
11  Conte  di  Saldagna.     Venice,  1795. 
Romeo  e  Giuletta.     Milan,  1796. 
Mitridate.     Venice,  1797. 
Meleagro.     Milan,  1798. 
Carolina  e  Menzicoff.    Venice,  1798. 
Edipo  a  Colona.     Venice,  1799. 
II  Ritratto.     Milan,  1799. 
II  Ratto  delle  Sabine.    Venice,  1800. 
Clitemnestra.     Milan,  1801. 
II  Bevitore  Fortunate.     Milan,  1803. 
Ines  de  Castro.     Milan,  1803. 
Tancredi   al   Sepolcro  di   Clorinda. 

Naples,  1805. 
Baldovino.     Rome,  1810. 
Berenice.     Rome  (  TL  Valle),  1811. 

PERSUIS. 

Estelle.     1783. 

La  Nuit  Espagnole.     1791. 

Phanor  et  Angola.     1798. 

Fanny  Morna.     1799. 

Le  Fruit  Defendu.     1800. 

Marcel.     1801. 

Leonidas.     1799. 

Le  Triomphe  de  Trajan.     1807. 

Jerusalem  delivree.     1812. 

L'Heureux  Retour.     1815. 

Les  Dieux  Rivaux. 

DALAYRAC. 

L'Eclipse  totale.     1782. 

Le  Corsaire.     1783. 

Les  Deux  Tuteurs.     1784. 

La  Dot ;  L'Amant  Statue.     1785. 

Nina.     178G. 

Azemia ;  Renaud  d'Ast.     1787. 

Sargines.     1788. 

Raoul  de  Cre'qui;  Les  Deux  Petits 

Savoyards;  Fanchette.     1789. 
La    Soire'e    Orageuse ;    Vert -Vert. 

1790. 
Philippe    et  Georgette;    Camillo   ou 

le    Souterrain;   Agnes   et  Oliver. 

1791. 
Elise  Hortense ;  L'Actrice  chez  clle. 

1792. 
Ambroise,  ou    Voila    ma    Journee ; 

Rome'o   et   Juliette ;     Urgande   et 

Merlin  ;  La  Prise  de  Toulon.   1793. 
Adele  et  Dorsan.     1794. 


Arnill  ;      Marianne  ;      La     Pauvrc 

Femme.     1795. 
La  Famille  Americane.     1796. 
Gulnare ;  La  Maison  isolee.     1797. 
Primerose ;  Alexis,  ou  1'  Erreur  d'un 

bon  Pere ;  Le  Chateau  de  Monte'- 

nei-o ;  Les  Deux  Mots.     1798. 
Adolphe  et  Clara ;  Laure ;  Le  Le9on, 

ou  la  Tasse  de  Glace.     1799. 
Catinat ;    Le   Rocher   de   Leucade ; 

Maison  a  Vendre.     1800. 
La  Boucle  de  Cheveux ;  La  Tour  de 

Neustadt.     1801. 
Picaros  et  Diego.     1803. 
Une  Heure  de  Mariage ;  Le  Pavilion 

du  Calife' ;  La  Jeune  Prude.    1804. 
Gulistan.     1805. 
Lina,  ou  le  Mystere.     1807. 
Koulouf ;  ou,  les  Chinois.     1808. 
Le  Poete  et  le  Musicien.     1811. 

LESUEUR. 

Telemaque.     Paris,  1787. 

La  Caverne.     February  16, 1793. 

Paul  et  Virginie.     1793. 

La  Mort  d'Adam.     1793. 

Les  Bardes.    July  10, 1804. 

STORAGE. 

L'Equivoci.     Vienna,  1786, 

La    Cameriera    Astuta.       London, 

March  4, 1788. 
No  Song  no  Supper.    London,  May  3, 

1790. 
The  Siege  of  Belgrade.     January  1, 

1791. 
Dido,  Queen  of  Carthage.     May  23, 

1791. 
The  Pirates.     1792. 
The  Prize.     1793. 
The   Haunted   Tower.     January  3, 

1794. 
The  First  of  June.     1794. 
Cherokee.     1794. 
Lodoiska.     1794. 
My  Grandmother.     1795. 
The  Iron  Chest,     1796. 
Mahmoud  ;  or,  the  Prince  of  Persia. 

April  30, 1796. 

i  PAER. 

La  Locanda  de'  Vagabondi.    Parma, 

1789. 
I  Pretendenti  Burlati.     Parma,  1790. 
Circe.     Venice,  1791. 
Said  ossia  il  Seraglio.    Venice,  1792. 


LIST   OF   OPERAS. 


525 


L'Oro  fa  Tutto.     Milan,  1 793. 

I  Molinari.     Venice,  1793. 
Laodicea.     Padua,  1793. 

II  Tempo  f  k  Giustizia  a  Tutti.    Pavia, 
1794. 

Idomeneo.     Florence,  1794. 

Una  in  Bene  ed  Una  in  Male.    Rome, 

1794. 
II  Matrimonio  Improviso.     1794. 
L'Araante  Servitore.     Venice,  1795. 
La  Rossana.     Milan,  1795. 
L'Orfana    Ricouosciuta.      Florence, 

1795. 
Ero  6  Leandro.     Naples,  1795. 
Tamerlane.     Milan,  179G. 

I  Due  Sordi.     Venice,  1796. 
Sofonisba.     Bologna,  1796. 
Griselda.     Parma,  1796. 
L'Intrigo  Amoroso.     Venice,  1796. 
La  Testa  Riscaldata.     Venice,  1796. 
Cinna.     Padua,  1797. 

II  Principe    di    Taranto.      Parma, 
1797. 

II  Nuovo  Figaro.     Parma,  1797. 
La  Sonnambula.     Venice,  1797. 
II  Fanatico  in  Berlina.    Vienna,  1798. 
II  Morto  Vivo.     Vienna.     1799. 
La  Donna  Cambiata.     Vienna,  1800. 

I  Fuorusciti   di  Firenzc.      Vienna, 
1800. 

Camilla.     Vienna,  1801. 
GinevradegliAlmeri.   Dresden,  1802. 

II  Sargino.     Dresden,  1803. 

Tutto  il  male  vien  dal  Buco.    Venice, 

1804. 
L'Astuzie  Amorosa.     Parma,  1804. 
II  Maniscalco.     Padua,  1804. 
Leonora    ossia    TAmorc    conjugalc. 

Dresden,  1805. 
Achille.    Dresden,  1806. 
Numa  Pompilio.     Paris,  1808. 
Cleopatra.     Paris,  1810. 
Didone.     Paris,  1810. 
IBaccanti.     Paris,  1811. 
L'Agnese.     Parma,  1811. 
L'Eroismo  in  Amorc.     Milan,  1816. 
Le  Maitre  de  Chapelle.     Paris,  1824. 
Un  Caprice  de  Femme.     Paris,  1834. 
Olinde  et  Sophronie.     Paris,  1834. 


The  Magician  no  Conjuror. 
Mazzinghi.)     1790. 

DIBOIN, 

Damon  and  Phillida.     1768. 
The  Padlock.     1768. 


{Count 


Lionel  and  Clarissa ;  The  Jubilee ; 
The  Blackamoor.     1770. 

The  Wedding  Ring.     1773. 

The  Waterman ;  The  Christmas  Tale. 
1774. 

The  Seraglio.     1776. 

The  Quaker.     1777. 

Poor  Vulcan.     1778. 

Liberty  Hall.     1785. 

Harvest  Home.     1787. 

The  Cobbler ;  Rose  and  Colin ;  An- 
nette and  Lubin ;  The  Wives'  Re- 
venge ;  The  Graces;  The  Saloon; 
The  Shepherdess  of  the  Alps ;  The 
Barrier  of  Parnassus;  The  Milk- 
maid ;  The  Land  of  Simplicity ; 
The  Passions ;  The  Statue  ;  Clump 
and  Cuddcn  ;  The  Benevolent  Tar; 
The  Region  of  Accomplishments ; 
The  Lancashire  Witches  ;  The  Ces- 
tus;  Pandora;  Long  Odds;  Tom 
Thumb ;  The  Deserter. 

MEHUL. 
Hypsipilie.     1787. 
Alonzo  et  Cora. 
Euphrosine  et  Corradin.     1790. 
Stratonice. 
Horatius  Codes. 
Le  Jeuue  Sage  et  leVieux  Fou. 
Doria. 

Phrosine  et  Mc'lidor. 
La  Cavcrne.     1795. 
Adrien. 

Le  Jeune  Henri.     1797. 
Timoleon. 
Ariodant.     1 799. 
Joanna. 

L'Hcureu.K  malgre'  lui. 
Ile'leue. 
LTrato. 
Une  Folic. 
Ulhal. 

GabricUc  d'Estrccs. 
Le  Prince  Troul)adom*. 
Valentine  de  IVIilan. 
La  Journce  aux  Aventures. 
Arminio.     1794. 
Scipion.     1795. 
Tancrede  ct  Clorinde.     1796. 
Se'sostris. 

Agar  dans  le  Desert. 
Les  Amazones.     1812. 

KREUTZER. 

Jeanne  d'Arc  ii  Orleans.     1790. 


626 


LIST  OF   OPEEAS. 


Paul  et  Virginie  ;  Lodoiska.     1791. 
Charlotte    et   Wei'ther ;    Le    Franc 

Breton.     1792. 
Le  Deserteur  de  la  Montaigne   de 

Hamon ;    Le   Congres  des   Rois  ; 

Le  Siege  de  Lille ;  La  Journee  de 

Marathon.     1793. 
Astianax.     1801. 
Aristippe ;  Le  Petit  Page ;  Fran9ois 

Premier ;    Jadis    et   Aujourd'hui, 

1808. 
Antoine  et  Cle'opatre.     1809. 
La  Mort  d'Abel.     1810. 
Le   Triomphe    du   Mois    de    Mars. 

1811. 
L'Homme  sans  Fa^on.     1812. 
Le  Camp  de  Sobieski ;  Constance  et 

Theodore.     1813. 
Les  Be'arnais ;  L'Oriflamme.     1814. 
La  Princesse  de  Babjlone.     1815. 
Les  Deux  Rivaux;  La  Perruque  et 

la   Redingote;    Le    Maitre    et    le 

Valet.     1816. 
Le  Ne'gociant  de  Hambom'g.     1821. 
Ipsiboe'.     1823. 
Matilda. 

KUNZEN. 

Holger-Danskc.     1790. 

Les  Vendangeurs.     Prague,  1793. 

Hemmeligheden.    Copenhagen,  1796. 

Dragedickken ;  Jokeyn.  Copenha- 
gen, 1797. 

Eric  Ejegod.     1798. 

Naturen  Roest ;  La  Harpe  d'Ossian. 
1799. 

Le  Re'tour  dans  les  Foyers.  Copen- 
hagen, 1802. 

NICOLO  ISOUARD. 

Avviso  ai  Maritati.     Florence,  1794. 

Artaserse.     Livorna,  1795. 

II   Tonneliere ;    Rinaldo   d'Asti ;    II 

Barbiere   di    Seviglia ;    L'lmprov- 

visata  in   Campagna ;    II  Barone 

d'Alba  Chiara,  Malta. 
La   Statue ;   ou,  la  Femmc   Avare. 

Paris,  1800. 
Le  Petit  Page  ;  ou,  la  Prison  d'Etat. 

1800. 
Flaminius  a  Corinthe.     1801. 
L'Impromptu  de  Campagna ;  Michel 

Ange ;  Le  Baiser  et  la  Quittance. 

1802. 
Les  Confidences ;  Le  Medecin  Turc. 

1803. 


Leonce,  ou  le  Fils  adoptif ;  La  Ruse 
inutile ;  L'Intrigue  aux  Fenetres. 
1805. 

Idala ;  La  Prise  de  Passau ;  Le  De- 
jeuner de  Gar9ons.     1806. 

Les  Cre'anciers,  ou  Remede  k  la 
Goutte;  LesRendez-vousBurgeois. 
1807. 

Un  Jour  a  Paris;  Cimarosa.     1808. 

L'Intrigue  au  Serail.     1809. 

Cendrillon.     1810. 

Le  Magicien  sans  Magie ;  La  Vic- 
time  des  Arts;  Le  Billet  de  Lo- 
terie ;  Le  Fete  au  Village.     1811. 

LuUi  et  Quinault.     1812. 

Le  Pi-ince  de  Catane ;  Le  Francois 
a  Venise.     1813. 

Joconde ;  Jeannot  et  Colin  ;  Le  Siege 
de  Mezieres.     1814. 

Les  Deux  Maris ;  L'Une  pour  1' Autre. 
1816. 

NASOLINI. 

Nitteti,  Trieste;  L'Isola  incantata, 
Parma.     1789. 

Adriano  in  Siria,  Milan ;  Andro- 
macca,  London ;  Tesco,  Vienna. 
1790. 

La  Morte  di  Cleopatra.     1791. 

Semiramide.     Rome,  1792. 

Ercole  al  Termodonte,  Trieste  ;  Eu- 
genia ;  II  Trionfo  di  Clelia  ;  LTn- 
cantesimo  senza  Magia;  La  Me- 
rope ;  Gli  Opposti  Caratteri ;  Gli 
Sposi  Infatuati ;  La  Morte  di  Mit- 
ridate ;  La  Festa  d'Iside ;  I  due 
Fratelli  Rivali;  Gli  Annamorati; 
L'Adimira ;  Merope ;  II  Torto  Im- 
maginario. 

Fcrdinande  in  Mexico. 

PORTOGALLO. 

L'Eroe  Cinese,  Turin ;   La  Bachetta 

Portentosa.     1788. 
L'Astutto.     Florence,  1789. 
II  Molinaro.     Venice,  1790. 
La  Donna  di  Genio  vulubile.   Parma, 

1791. 
La   Vedova  raggiratrice,  Rome;   II 

Principe  di  Spazzacamino,  Venice ; 

II  Filosofo  sedicente ;  Alceste ;  Ore 

non  compra  Amore. 
Demofoonte.     Milan,  1794. 

I  Due  Gobbi  ossia  le  Confusioni  nate 

dalla  Somiglianza.     Venice,  1795. 

II  Ritorno    di    Serse,  Bologna;    II 


LIST    OF    OPERAS. 


527 


Diavolo  a  quattro,  ossia  le  Donne 

Cambiatc. 
Fernando  in  Messico.     Kome,  1797- 
La  Maschera  fortunata. 
Non  irritar  le  Donne.     1799. 
Idonte.     Milan,  1800. 
II  Muto  per  astuzzia;  Omar,  Ee  di 

Temagcne ;  Avgenide. 
Semiramide.     Lisbon,  1802. 
II  Cia  bottino;  Zulema  e  Selimo. 
Adrian©  in  Siria.     Milan,  1815. 
La  Mortc  di  Mitridate. 

TRAETTA. 
Farnace.     Naples,  1750. 

I  Pastori  Felici.     1753. 
Ezio.     Rome,  1754. 

II  Buova  d'Antona.     Florence,  175G. 
Ippolito  ed  Aricia.     Parma,  1759. 
Ifigenia  in  Aulide.     Vienna,  1759. 
Stordilano,  Principe  di  Granata,  Par- 
ma; Armida,  Vienna.     1760. 

Sofonisba.     Parma,  17G1. 

La  Francese  a  Malaghera.     1762. 

Didone  Abbandonata.     1764. 

Semiramide  Riconosciuta.     1765. 

La  Serva  Rivale.     Venice,  1767. 

Amore  in  Trappola.     1768. 

L'Isola  Disabitata.      St.  Petersburg, 

1769. 
L'Olimpiade.     1770. 
Antigone.     1772. 
Germondo.     London,  1 776. 
II  Cavalier  Errante.     Naples,  1777. 
La    Disfatta    di    Dario ;    Artcnice. 

Venice,  1778. 
Apele  0  Campaspc.     Milan,  1796. 

NICCOLINI. 
La  Famiglia  Stravagante.      Kome, 

1793. 
II  Principe  Spazzacamino;   I  Moli- 

nari.     1791. 
Le   Nozze   campcstri,  Milan;   Arta- 

scrse,  Venice.     1795. 
La  Donna  Innamorata.    Alzira,  1 7i>7. 
La  Clemenza  di  Tito.    Livorna,  1 797. 

I  Due   Fratclli   ridicoli,    Rome ;    II 
Bruto;  Gli  Scitti,  Milan.     1798. 

II  Trionfo  del  bel  scsso.     Indativo, 
1800. 

I  Baecanali  di  Roma.     Milan,  1801. 
I  Manli.     Milan,  1802. 
La  Selvaggia.     Rome,  1803. 
Fedra    ossia   il   Ritorno   di    Tcsco. 
Rome,  1804, 


II  Gcloso  sincerato.    Naples,  1805. 

Geribea  e  Falamone.     Naples,  1805. 

Gli  Inconstanti  Nemici  delle  Donne. 
1805. 

Abenbamet  e  Zoraide.     Milan,  1806. 

Trajano  in  Dacia.     Rome,  1807. 

Le  Due  Gcmelle.     Rome,  1808. 

Coriolano.     Milan,  1810. 

Dario  Istaspe.     Turin,  1811, 

Angelica  e  Medoro.     Turin,  1811. 

Abradate  e  Dircea,  Milan ;  Quinto 
Fabio,  Vienna ;  Le  Nozze  del  Mor- 
lacchi ;  La  Feudataria.     1812. 

La  Casa  del  Astrologo;  Jlitridate; 
L'Ira  d'Achille,  Milan;  Balduino, 
Venice ;  Carlo  JNLigno ;  II  Conte 
de  Lennose,  Parma;  Annibale  in 
Bitinia  ;  Cesare  nelle  Gallic ; 
Adolphe;  La  Presa  di  Granata; 
L'Ero  di  Lancastro ;  Aspasia  ed 
Agidc ;  II  Teuzzone ;  Ilda  d'Av- 
enel ;  La  Conquista  di  INIalacca ; 
Wittikind  ;  II  Trionfo  di  Cesare. 

SPONTINI. 
I  Puntigli  delle  Donne.     1795. 
aV  Amanti  in  Cimento.    Rome,  1796. 
L'Amor  Sccreto.     Venice,  1796. 
L'Isola  Disabitata,     Parma,  1797. 
L'Eroismo  Ridicolo.     Naples,  1797. 
Le    Teseo    Riconosciuto.     Florence, 

1798. 
La  Finta  Filosofa.     Naples,  1799. 
La  Fuga  in  Maschera.     ISOO. 

I  Quadri  Parlanti.     Parma,  1800. 

II  Finto  Pittore.  Parma,  1800. 
Gl'  Elisi  Dclusi.  Parma,  1801. 
II  Gelosa  e  I'Audacc.     Rome. 

Le  Metamorfosi  di  Pasquale.  Ven- 
ice, 1802. 

Chi  pill  guarda  meno  vede.  Venice, 
1802. 

La  Principessa  d'Amalfi.  Venice, 
1802. 

Le  Pot  de  Fleurs.     Paris,  1803. 

La  Petite  Maison.     Paris,  1804. 

Milton.     Paris,  December,  1804. 

L'Eccelsa  Gara,     1806. 

La  Vestalc.     December  15, 1 807. 

Fcrnand  Cortez.     1809. 

Pelage ;  ou,  le  Roi  ct  la  Paix.     1814. 

La  Colerc  d'Achille.     1816, 

Les  Dieux  Rivaux,     1816. 

Berenice. 

Les  Danaides. 

Louis  IX.  en  Egypte.     1817. 


528 


LIST   OP   OPERAS. 


Artaxerxes.     1819. 

Olympic.     1819. 

Les  Atheniennes.     1822. 

Alcidor.     1823. 

Noui'mahal. 

Agnes  de  Hohcnstaufen.  Berlin,1827. 

boVeldieu. 

La  Dot  de  Suzette.     1795. 

La  Famille  Suisse.     1796. 

Mombreuil  et  Merville.     1797. 

L'Heureuse  Nouvelle.     1797. 

Zoraime  et  Zulnarc.     1798. 

Beniowsky.     1800. 

Calife  de  Bagdad.     1800. 

Ma  Tante  Aurore. 

La  Prisonniere. 

Amour  et  Mystere. 

Calypso. 

Abderkan. 

Aline,  Eeine  de  Golconde. 

Joconde. 

Jeannot  et  Colin. 

Jean  de  Paris.     Paris,  1812. 

Le  Nouveau  Seigneur  de  Village. 
1813. 

Les  Bearnais.  : 

Angela ;  ou,  I'Atelier  de  Jean  Cousin. 
1815. 

La  Fete  du  Village  voisin. 

Charles  de  France. 

Blanche  de  Provence;  ou,  la  Cour 
des  Fees.     1821. 

La  Dame  Blanche.  Paris,  Decem- 
ber, 1825. 

MAYER. 

Lodoiska.     Venice,  1796. 
Telemacco.    Venice,  1797. 
Lauso  e  Lidia.     Venice,  1798. 
Adriano  in  Siria.     Naples,  179S. 
L'Equivoco.     Milan,  1800. 
Ginevra  di  Scozia.     Trieste,  1801. 
II  Nuovo  Fanatico  per  la  Musica. 
Le  Due  Giornate.     Milan,  1801. 
Argene.     Venice,  1801. 
II  Kaoul  di  Cre'qui.     Milan,  1801. 
Amore  non  softre  Opposizione.    Ven- 
ice, 1801. 
I  Misteri  Eleusini.     Milan,  1802. 
Ercole  in  Lidia.     Vienna,  1803. 
Le  Finti  Rivali.     Milan,  1803. 
Alfonso  e  Cora.     Milan,  1803. 
Amor  non  ha  ritcgno.     Milan,  1804. 
Elisa.     Venice,  1804. 
Ernaldo  ed  Emma.     Milan,  1805. 


L'Amor  Conjugale.     Padua,  1805. 
La   Rocia   di   Fahenstein.     Venice, 

1805. 
Gl' Americani.     Venice,  1806. 
Ifigenia  in  Aulide.     Parma,  1806. 
Adalasia  ed  Alaramo.     Milan,  1807. 
Ne  I'un  ne  I'altro.     Milan,  1807. 
Belle  Ciarle  e  tristi  Fatti.     Venice, 

1807. 

I  Cherasci.     Rome,  1808. 

II  Vero  Originale.     Rome,  1808. 
II  Ritorno  d'Ulisse.     Venice,  1 809. 
II   Desertore   ossia   Amore   Filiale. 

Venice,  1811. 
Medea  in  Corinto.     Venice,  1812. 
Tamerlane.     Milan,  1812. 
Le  Due  Duchesse.     Milan,  1814. 
La   Rosa  bianca  ed  la  Rosa  rossa. 

Rome,  1814. 
Atar.     Milan,  1815. 
Elena  e  Constantino.     Milan,  1816. 

CATEL. 

Semiramis.     1802. 
L'Auberge  de  Bagneres.     1807. 
Les  Artistes  par  Occasion.     1807. 
Les  Bayaderes.     1808. 
Les  Aubergistes  de  Qualite.     1810. 
Le  Siege  de  Mezieres.     1814. 
Wallace,   ou    1^  Minstrel   Ecossais; 
Zirphile  et  Fleur  de  Myrte.     1818. 
L'Officier  Enleve'.     1819. 

GENERALI. 

Gli  Amanti  Ridicoli.     Rome,  1800. 

II  Duca  Nottolone.     Rome,  1801. 

La  Pamela  nubile.     Venice,  1802. 

La  Calzolaja. 

L'Adelina. 

Misantropia  e  Pentimento,  Venice ; 
Gli  Eft'eti  della  Somiglianza,  Ven- 
ice; Don  Chisciotti,  Milan.     1805. 

Orgoglio  et  Umiliazione,  Venice ; 
L'Idolo  Cinese,  Naples.     1807. 

Lo  Sposo  in  Bersaglio.  Florence, 
1807. 

Le  Lagrime  d'una  Vedova.  Venice, 
1808. 

II  Ritratto  del  Duca.    Venice,  1808. 

Lo  Sposo  in  Contrasto.   Vienna,  1808. 

La  Moglie  Giudice  dello  Sposo.  Ven- 
ice, 1809. 

Amore  vince  lo  Sdegno.  Rome, 
1809. 

Chi  non  risica  non  rosica,  Milan  ; 
La  Vedova   delirante,  Rome;  La 


LIST    OF    OPERAS. 


520 


Sciocca  per  gli  altri  e  I'Astuta  per 
se,  Venice.     1811. 

Gaulo  ed  Ojitono.     Naples,  1812. 

La  Vedova  stravagante,  Milan  ;  L'Or- 
do  che  ci  vede,  Bologna. 

Eginardo  e  Lisbetta.     Naples,  1813. 

Bajazcttc ;  La  Contessa  di  Colle  Er- 
boso ;  II  Servo  Padrone,  Turin. 
1814. 

L'Impostore  ossia  il  Marcotondo.  Mi- 
lan, 1815. 

I  Baccanali  di  Rome.    Venice,  1815. 
La  Vestale.    Trieste,  1816. 

II  Trionfo  d'  Alessandro.  Bologna, 
1816. 

Elato.     Bologna,  1817. 

Rodrigo  di  Valcnza.     1817. 

II  Gabba  Mondo ;  Elena  ed  Alfredo ; 
Adelaide  di  Borgogna;  Chiara  di 
Rosemberg;  La  Testa  maraviglio- 
sa ;  II  Divorzio  Persiano  o  il  gran 
Bazzaro  di  Bassora. 

Francesca  di  Rimini.     Milan,  1829. 

HUMMEL. 
Le  Vicende  d'Amore. 
Mathilde  do  Guise. 
Das  Haus  ist  zu  Verkaufen. 
Die  Ruckfahrt  des  Kaisers. 

WINTER. 
Armida ;  Cora  e  Alonzo ;  Leonardo 

eBlandine;  Helencet  Paris.    1780. 
Bellerophon.     1782. 
Circe'.     Munich,  1788. 
Catone  in  Utica ;  Antigone.     1791. 
II  Sacrifizio  di  Creta,  Venice ;   Fra- 

telli  Rivali.     Venice,  1792. 
Psyche',  Munich  ;  Dcr  Sturm.     1793. 
Le  Labyrinthe. 
Das  Untcrbrochene  Opferfcst ;  Ogus, 

ou   le    Triom))hc    du   beau   Scxe, 

Prague;  Die Thomasnacbt.    1795. 

I  Due  Vedove.     Vienna,  1796. 
Ariana;  Elisa.     1797. 

Marie  de  Montalban.    Munich,  1798. 

Tamerlan.     Paris,  1802. 

Castor  et  Pollux.     London,  1 803. 

II  Ratto  di  Proserpine.   London,  1 80  L 
Zaira,  London  ;    Calypso ;    L'Amore 

Fraterno,    London ;      Fraenbund, 

Munich.     1805. 
Colman.     Munich,  1809. 
Die  Blinden.     Munich,  1810. 
II  Maometto,  Milan;  I  Due  Valdo- 

miri.     Milan,  1817. 

34  : 


Etelinda.     1818. 

La  Bouffe  et  le  Tailleur. 


1819. 


BEETHOVEN. 

Fidelio.    Vienna,  November,  1805. 

BISHOP. 

The  Circassian  Bride ;  The  Vinta- 
gers.    1809. 

The  Maniac.     1810. 

The  Virgin  of  the  Sun  ;  The  .^thiop ; 
The  Renegade.     1812. 

IlarounalRaschid;  The  Brazen  Bust; 
Harry  le  Roi ;  The  Miller  and  his 
Men  ;  For  England,  Ho !     1813. 

The  Farmer's  Wife ;  The  Wandering 
Boys;  The  Grand  Alliance;  The 
Forest  of  Bondy ;  The  Maid  of  the 
Mill;  John  of  Paris.     1814. 

The  Brother  and  Sister ;  The  Noble 
Outlaw;  Telemachus.     1815. 

A  Midsummer  Night's  Dream ;  The 
Slave.     1816. 

The  Heir  of  Verona ;  The  Humorous 
Lieutenant ;  The  Duke  of  Savoy. 

Zuma.     1818. 

The  Heart  of  Mid  Lothian;  A  Roland 
fou  an  Oliver ;  The  Comedv  of  Er- 
rors.    1819. 

The  Antiquary ;  The  Battle  of  Both- 
well  Bridge  ;  Ilcnrv  IV.     1820. 

Twelfth  Night ;  The  two  Gentlemen 
of  Verona;  Montrose.     1821. 

The  Law  of  Java ;  Maid  Marian. 
1822. 

Clari ;  The  Beacon  of  Liberty ;  Cor- 
tcz.     1823. 

Our  Native  Land ;  The  Fall  of  Al- 
giers.    1824. 

W^illiam  Tell.     1825. 

Aladdin.     1826. 

The  Englishman  in  India ;  The  Ren- 
contre.    1827. 

COCCIA. 
II  Matrimonio  per  Cambiale.    Rome, 

1808. 
II   Poeta   Fortunato,   Florence ;    La 

Vcrltii  ncUa  Bugia,  Venice.     1810. 
Voglia  di  Dote  c  non  di  Moglie.   Fer- 

rara,  1810. 
La  Matilde.     1811. 

I  Solitari.     Venice,  1812. 

II  Sogno  vcrificato.  1812. 
Arrighctto.  Venice,  1814. 
La  Selvagia.     1814. 


530 


LIST   OF   OPERAS. 


II  Crescendo  ;  Euristea  ;  Evelina. 
Milan,  1815. 

I  Begli  Usi  di  Citta,  Milan  ;  Clotilde, 

Venice ;    Rinaldo    d'Asti,  Rome  ; 

Carlotta  e  Werter.     1816. 
Claudine,  Turin  ;   Etelinde,  Venice  ; 

Simile,  Ferrara.     1817. 
Donna  Caritea.     Turin,  1818. 
Fajel.     Florence,  1819. 
Atar.     Lisbon,  1820. 
Mandane,  Regina  di  Persia.     1821. 
Elena  a  Constantino.     1821. 
La  Festa  della  Rosa,     1822. 
Maria  Stuarda.     London,  1827. 
L'Orfano  delle  Solve.     Venice,  1829. 
Rosamunda.     Naples,  1831. 
Edoardo  Stuart.     Milan,  1832. 
Enrico  di  Montfort.     1832. 
Caterina  di  Guisa.     1833. 

MORLACCHI. 

II  Ritratto,  Bologna ;  II  Poeta  in  Cam- 
pagna.     1807. 

Corradino;  Enone  e  Paride,  Livorna; 
Oreste,  Parma.     1808. 

Rinaldo  d'Asti,  Parma ;  La  Princi- 
pessa  per  Rimpiego,  Rome ;  Le  Av- 
venture  d'una  Giornata.  Milan, 
1809. 

Le  Dan  aide.     1810. 

Raoul  de  Crequi.     Dresden,  1811. 

La  Capricciosa  Pentita.  Dresden, 
1812. 

II  Nuovo  Barbiere  di  Siviglia.  Dres- 
den, 1815. 

La  Badicea.     Venice,  1818. 

Da  Semplicetta  di  Pirna. 

Donna  Aurora.     Dresden,  1819. 

Tebaldo  ed  Isolina.     Dresden,  1820. 

La  Gioventii  di  Enrico  V.  Dresden, 
1823. 

Laodicea.     1825. 

I  Saraceni  in  Sicilia.     Venice,  1827. 

II  Colombo.     1828. 
Gioanni  di  Parigi.     1829. 
Francesca  di  Rimini.     Venice,  1836. 


SPOHR. 

Der  Zweikampf  der  Geliebten  ;  Der 
Berggeist ;  Faust ;  Jessonda  ;  Ze- 
mire  et  Azor ;  Pietro  d'Abano ;  Der 
Alchymist,  Berlin. 

WEIGL. 

La  Precaution  Inutile ;  La  Sposa  Col- 
lerica ;  II  Pazzo  per  Forza ;  La  Caf- 


fetiera ;  La  Pvincipessa  d'Amalfi  ; 
Giulietta  e  Pierotto;  L'Amor  Ma- 
rinaro;  L'Accademia  del  Maestro 
Cisolfat;  I  Solituii;  L'Uniforme; 
Le  Prince  Invisible ;  Cleopatra ;  II 
Rivale  di  se  stesso;  L'Imboscata; 
L'Orfana  d'lnghilterra ;  Le  Petit 
Homme  Pierre ;  Le  Village  dans 
les  Montagncs;  La  Maison'des  Or- 
phelins ;  La  Famille  Suisse ;  Fran- 
9oise  de  Foix ;  Le  Feu  de  Vesta ; 
La  Chute  de  la  Montague ;  L'Em- 
pereur  Adrien ;  La  Jeunesse  de 
Pien-e  le  Grand  ;  La  Chute  do 
Baal ;  La  Porte  de  Per ;  Ostade ; 
L'Ermite  ;  Le  Rossignol  et  le  Cor- 
beau ;  Waldemar ;  Edouard  et  Car- 
oline ;  II  Ratto  di  Proserpine. 


Venice, 
Bologna, 


ROSSINI. 

La  Cambiale  di  Matrimonio. 

1810. 
L'Equivoco  Stravagante. 

1811. 
L'Inganno  Felice  (Ven.);    Ciro  in 

Babilonia  (Ferrara) ;  La  Scala  di 

Seta  (Ven.) ;  L'Occasione  fa  il  La- 

dro(Ven.).     1812. 
La  Pietro  del  Paragone.  Milan,  1812. 
Demetrio  e  Polibio.     Rome,  1812. 
LTtaliana  in  Algieri.     Naples,  1813. 
Tancredi.     Venice,  1813. 
II  Bruschino;  o,  il   Figlio  per  Az- 

zarde.     Venice,  1813. 
L'Aureliano  in  Palmira.     1814. 
II  Turco  in  Italia.     Milan,  1814. 
Sigismondo.     Venice,  1815. 
La  Gazetta.     Naples,  1816. 
iPtello.     Naples,  1816. 
jl  Barbiere  di  Siviglia.    Rome,  1816. 
La  Cenerentola.     Rome,  1816. 
Armida.     Naples,  1817. 
La  Gazza  Ladra.     Milan,  1817. 
Elisabetta.     Naples,  1817. 
Mose  in  Egitto.     Naples,  1818. 
Ricciardo  e  Zoraide.     Naples,  1818. 
Torwaldo  e  Dorliska.     Rome,  1818. 
Adelaide  di  Borgogna.    Rome,  1818. 
Adina ;  o,  il  Calififo  di  Bagdad.  1818. 
Ermione.     Naples,  1819. 
Eduardo  e  Christina.     Venice,  1819. 
La  Donna  del  Lago.     Naples,  1819. 
Bianca  e  Faliero.     Milan,  1819. 
Maometto.     Naples,  1820. 
Matilda  di  Shabran.     Rome,  1821. 
Zelmira.     Naples,  August  13, 1822. 


LIST   OF   OPERAS. 


531 


Mose  in  Egitto.     Taris,  1822. 
Semiramide.     Venice,  1823. 
II  Viag<;io  a  Rheims.     Paris,  1825. 
Le  Sie'ge  de  Corinthe.     Paris,  1826. 
Le  Corate  Ory.     Paris,  1827. 
_fiuglielmo  TeU.     Paris,  1829. 
Robert  Bruce.     Paris,  18i6. 

CARAFA. 

II  Vascello ;  L'Occidente.     1814. 

La  Gelosia  Corrctta.     1815. 

Gabrielle  di  Vergi.     1816. 

Ifigcnia  in  Tauride.     Naples,  1817. 

Adele  di  Lusignano.     ]\Iilan,1817. 

Berenice  Siria.     Naples,  1818. 

Elizabeth  in  Derbyshire.  Venice, 
1818. 

H  Sacrifizio  d'  Epito.     1819. 

Gli  Due  Figaro.     Milan,  1820. 

Jeanne  d' Arc.     Paris,  1821. 

La  Capriciosa  ed  il  Soldato,  Rome ; 
Le  Solitaire,  Paris ;  Taraerlano, 
Paris ;  Eufemio  di  Messina  Abufar, 
Vienna ;  Le  Valet  de  Chambre, 
Paris;  L'Auberge  Supposce.    1823. 

La  Belle  au  Bois  Dormant ;  II  Son- 
nambulo,  Milan.     1825. 

Sangarido.     Paris,  1827. 

Le  Nozze  di  Lammermoor.  Paris, 
December,  1829. 

La  Violctte ;  Masaniello  ;  Jenny ;  La 
Prison  d'Edimbourg.     1833. 

La  Grande  Duchesse. 

PACINI. 

Anetta  e  Lucindo.     Venice,  1814. 

Rosina.     Florence,  1815. 

L'Ingenua.     Venice,  1818. 

Adelaide  e  Comingio.     Milan. 

II  Barone  di  Dolsheim.    Milan,  1818. 

L'Ambizione  Dclusa ;  Gli  Sponsali  di 
Silfii;  II  Falegname  di  Livonia; 
Ser  Marcantonio ;  La  Sposo  Fe- 
dele ;  La  Schiava  di  Bagdad  ;  La 
Gioventu  d'Enrico  V. ;  LaVcstale; 
L'Eroe  Scozzesse  ;  La  Saccrdotcssa 
d'Irminsul ;  Atala ;  Isabella  ed  En- 
rico. 

Temistocle.   Lucca,  November,  1823. 

Alcssandro  ncU' Indie.    Naples,  1824. 

Amazilia.     Naples,  1825. 

L'Ultimo  Giorno  di  Pompei.  Naples, 
November  19, 1825. 

Niobe.     Nai)lcs,  November  19. 1826. 

II  Crociato  in  Tolomaide.  Trieste, 
1828. 


Gi'  Arabi  nelle  Gallic.  Turin,  De- 
cember 25, 1828. 

Margherita  d'Anjou. 

Ccsare  in  Egitto. 

Gianni  di  Calais. 

Giovanna  d'Arco,  Milan,  IMarch  12, 
1830;  Berta;  Mulctierc  di  Toledo. 

Malvina  di  Scozia  (Naples);  Cinq 
Mars  (Palermo).     1852. 

II  Cid  (Milan);  La  Cantatrice  di 
Madrid.     1853. 

Allan  Cameron ;  La  Pnnizione  (Ven- 
ice) ;  Romilda  di  Provenza ;  Eiisa 
Valasco  (Rome).     1854. 

Luisetta.     Naples,  1855. 

Margarita  Pusterla.     Naples,  1856. 

Gianni  di  Nisilda.     Rome,  1860. 

Belphegor.     Florence,  1861. 

Giovanni  di  Marana.     1862. 

VACCAJ. 

I  Solitari  di  Scozia.     1814. 

II  Lupo  d'Ostcnda.     1818. 
Pietro  il  Grande.     Parma,  1824. 

La  Pastorella  Feudataria ;  Zadig  cd 
Astartea.     Naptes,  1825. 

Giulietta  e  Romeo,  Milan  ;  Fuccinc 
di  Norvegia ;  Giovanna  d'Arco, 
Venice ;  Bianca  di  Messina,  Tu- 
rin ;  Saladino,  Florence ;  SauUc, 
Milan ;  II  Marco  Visconti ;  Gio- 
vanna Gray;  La  Sposa  di  Mes- 
sina. 

DONIZETTI. 

Enrico,  Contc  di  Borgogne.    Venice, 

1818. 
II  Falegname  di  Livomia.     Venice, 

1819. 
Le  Nozzo  in  Villa.     Mantua,  1820. 
Zoraide  di  Granata.     Rome,  1822. 
La  Zingara.     Naples,  1822. 
Chiara  e  Scrafina.     Milan,  1822. 
IlFortunato  Inganno.    Naples,  1823. 
Aristea.     Naples,  1823. 
Una  Follia.     Naples,  1823. 
Alfredo  il  Grande.     Naples,  1823. 
L'Ajo  in  Imbiirazzo.     Rome,  1824. 
Emilia ;  o,  I'Ermitagio  di  Liverpool. 

Naples,  1824. 
Alahor  in  Granata.     P.alcrmo,  1826. 
II  Castello  degli  Inv.ilidi.     Palermo, 

1826. 
Elvira.     Naples,  1826. 
Olive  e  Pasquale.     Rome,  1827. 
II  Borgomastro  di  Saardam ;  Le  Con- 


532 


LIST   OF    OPEKAS. 


venienze  Teatrali;  Otto  Mesi  in  due 

Ere.     Naples,  1827. 
Giove  di  Grano ;  L'Usule  di  Koma ; 

Gianni  di  Calais.     Naples,  1828. 
La  Regina   di    Golconda.      Genoa, 

1828. 
II   Paria ;    I   Pazzi   per  Progretto ; 

Francesca  di  Foix ;  La  Romanzie- 

ra ;  II  Castello  di  Kenilworth  ;  Zai- 

da ;  II  Diluvio  Universale ;  Imelda 

di  Lambertuzzi.     Naples,  1829. 
Anna  Bolena.     Milan,  1830. 
Fausta.     Naples,  1831. 
Ugo  Conte  di  Parigi.     Milan,  1832, 
L'Elisir  d'Amore.^   Milan,  1832. 
'Sancia  di  Castiglia.     Naples,  1832. 
H  Furioso,  Rome ;  Parisina,  Florence ; 

Torquato  Tasso,  Rome.     1833. 
;  Lucrezia  Borgia,  Milan;  Rosmonda 
^ —    d'Inghilterra,     Florence  ;      Maria 

Stuarda,  Naples ;   Buondelmonte. 
,     1834. 
"pjGemma,  di  Vergy.     Milan,  1835. 
/  ]Lucia  di  Lammernioor,  Naples,  1835. 
Marino  Faliero,  Paris ;  Betly,  Naples ; 

L'Assedio    di   Calais,  Naples  ;    II 

Campanella  di  Notte,  Naples ;  Be- 

lisario,  Venice.     1836. 
Pia  di  Tolomei ;  Roberto  Devereux. 

Naples,  1837. 
Maria  di  Rudenz.    Venice,  1838. 
Gianni  di  Parigi.     Milan,  1839. 
]  La  Figlia  del  Reggimento  ;/_La  Favo- 

rita^y  Les  Martyres.     Paris,  1840. 
Adella.     Rome,  1841. 
[Linda  di  Chamouni,  Vienna ;  Maria 

di  Rohan,  Vienna ;  Maria  Padilla, 

Milan.     1842. 
1  Don  Pasquale ;  Dom  Sebastien.    Par- 
is, 1843. 
Catarina  Cornaro  ;  Gabrielle  deVer- 

gi ;  Le  Due  d'Albe.    Naples,  1844. 
Rita.    Paris,  1860. 

MERCADANTE.* 

L'Apoteosi  d'Ercole.     Naples,  1818. 
Violenza  e  Costanza.     Naples,  1819. 
Anacreonte  in  Samo.     Naples,  1820. 
II  Geloso  Ravveduto.     Rome,  1820. 
Scipione  in  Cartagine.    Rome,  1820. 
Maria  Stuarda.     Bologna,  1821. 
Elisa  e  Claudio.     Milan,  1821. 
Andronico.     Milan,  1822. 
Adele  ed  Emerico.     Milan,  1822. 


Amleto.     1822. 

Alfonso  ed  Elisa.     Mantua,  1823. 

Didone.    Turin,  1823. 

Gli  Sciti.     Naples,  1823. 

Gli  Amici  di  Siracuse.    Rome,  1824. 

Doralice.     Vienna,  1824. 

Le  Nozze  di  Telemacco  ed  Antiope. 

Vienna,  1824. 
II  Podesta  di  Burgos.   Vienna,  1824. 
L'Erode.     Venice,  1825. 
Nitocri.     Turin,  1825. 
La  Donna  Caritea.    Venice,  1826. 
Ezio.     Milan,  1827. 
II  Montanaro.    Milan,  1827. 
La  Rappressaglia.     Cadiz,  1829. 
La  Testa  di  Bronzo.    Madrid,  1830. 
Zaira.     Naples,  1831. 

I  Normanni  a  Parigi.     Turin,  1831. 
Ismala  ossia  Morte  ed  Amore.  Milan, 

1832. 

II  Conte  d'Essex.     Milan,  1833. 
Emma  d'Antiochia.     Venice,  1834. 

I  Briganti.    Paris,  March  22, 1836. 
La  Gioventii  di  Enrico  V. 

II  Giuramento.     Milan,  1837. 

Le  Due  Illustri  Rivali.    Venice,  1839. 

Leonora. 

La  Schiava  Saracene.     1850. 

Statira ;  Violetta.     Naples,  1853. 

Pelagio.     Naples,  1858. 

MEYERBEER. 

Romilda  e  Costanzo.     Padua,  1818. 

Marguerite  d'Anjou.     Milan,  1822. 

L'Esule  di  Granata.     1823. 

II  Crociato.     Venice,  April,  1824. 

Emma  di  Resburgo.     1825. 

Robert  le  Diable.    Paris,  1831. 

Les  Huguenots.     Paris,  1836. 

Nabuco. 

Attila.     Venice. 

Giovanno  d'Arco. 

Camp  de  Silesie.     Berlin,  1844. 
{Le  Prophete.     Paris,  1849. 

L'Etoile  du  Nord.     Paris,  1854. 
"iiC   Pardon  de  Ploermel  {Dinorah). 
Paris,  1859. 

WEBER. 
Die  Macht  der  Liebe  und  des  Weins. 

Salzburg,  1798. 
Silvana.     Munich,  1800. 
Peter  Scbmoll  und  seine  Nachbarn. 

Salzburg,  1801. 


Signor  Mercadante  haa  written  fifty -two  operaa  in  alL 


LIST   OF    OPERAS. 


533 


Riibezahl.     Breslan,  1805. 

Abon  Hassan.     Darmstadt,  1810. 

Der  Freischutz.     Berlin,  1821. 

Euryanthc.     Vienna,  1823. 

Preciosa.     1825. 

Oberon.     London,  April  12,  182G. 

Der  Berherrscher  der  Geister.    1S2G. 

HALEVY. 
L'Artisan.    Paris,  January  30,  1822. 
Pygmalion. 
Phidias.     1827. 
Les  Deux  Pavilions.     1827. 
Le  Roi  et  le  Batelier.     1828. 
Le  Dilettante.     Paris,  1829. 
Clari.     Paris,  1829. 
Le  Langue  Musicale.     1831. 
Ludovic.     1832. 
La  Tentation.     1833. 
Les  Souvenirs  de  Lafleur.     1834. 
L I  Juive.     Paris,  1835. 
L  Eclair .     Paris,  December,  1 835. 
Guido  e  Ginevra.     Paris,  1838. 
Cosme  de  Medicis.     1839. 
Les  Treize.     1839. 
Le  Drapier.     Paris,  1840. 
II  Guitarero.     Paris,  1841. 
La  Reine  do  Chypre.     Paris,  1842. 
Charles  VI.     Paris,  1843. 
II  Lazzarone.     Paris,  1844. 
Les    Mousquetaires    de    la    Rcine. 

Paris,  184G. 
Le  Val  d'Andorre.     Paris,  1848. 
La  Fee  aux  Roses.     Paris,  1849. 
La  Tempesta.     London,  1850. 
La  Dame  de  Pique.     1850. 
Le  Juif  Errant.     1852. 
Le  Nabob.     1853. 
Jaguarita.     1855. 
Valentine  d'Aubigny.     1856. 
La  Magicienne.     Paris,  1857. 

AUBER. 

Le  Sejouv  Militaire.     1813. 

Le   Testament   et   les    Billets-doux. 

1819. 
La  Bergere  Chatelaine.     1821. 
Emma.     1821. 
Leicester.     1822. 
Le  Neige;    ou,  Ic  Nouvel  Eginard. 

Paris,  October  8,  ISfe. 
Le  Concert  a  la  Cour.     Paris,  1824. 
Ldocadie.     Paris,  November,  1824. 
Le  Ma<;;on.     Paris,  May,  1825. 
LeTimide.     1826. 
Fiorella.     1826. 


La  Muette  di  Portici.     Paris,  1829. 

La  Fiancee.     Paris,  January,  1829. 
L£ra,  Diavolo.     Paris,  January,  1830. 

Le  Dieu  et  la  Bayadere.  Paris,  Oc- 
tober, 1830. 

Le  Philtre.     Paris,  June,  1831. 

Le  Serment.     Paris,  1832. 

Gustave  III.     Paris,  1833. 

Lestocq.     1834. 

Les  Chaperons  Blancs.     1836. 

Acteon.     Paris,  January  25, 1836. 

L'Ambassadrice.     Paris,  1836. 

Le  Domino  Noir.     Paris,  1837. 

Le  Lac  des  Fe'es.     Paris,  1839. 

Zanctta.     Paris,  May,  1840. 

Les  Diamans  de  la  Couronne.  Paris, 
March  6, 1841. 

Le  Due  d'Olonne.    Paris,  1842. 

Le  Part  du  Diable.     Paris,  1843. 

La  Sirene.     Paris,  1844. 

La  Barcarolle.     Paris,  1845. 

Ilaide'e;  ou,  Le  Se'cret.     Paris,  1847. 

L'Enfant  Prodigue.     Paris,  1850. 

La  Corbeille  d'Oranges.    Paris,  1851- 

Marco  Spada.     Paris,  1852. 

Le  Cheval  de  Bronze.     1853. 

Manon  Lescaut.     1855. 

Jenny  Bell.     1855. 

La  Circassienne.     1861. 

GNECCO. 

Gli  Bramini;  Argete;  Le  Nozzc  dc 
Sanniti ;  La  Prova  d'un  Opera  Se- 
ria;  Le  Nozze  di  Lauretta;  Caro- 
lina c  Filandro ;  II  Pignattaro ;  La 
Scena  senza  Scena ;  Gli  ultimi  due 
Giorni  di  Camovale ;  La  Prova 
degli  Orazzi  e  Curiazi ;  Arsace  c 
Scmira;  Amanti  filarmonici. 

HEROLD. 

La  Gioventu  di  Eurico  Quinto.  Na- 
ples, 1812. 

Charles  de  France ;  Les  Rositires ; 
La  Clochctte.     Paris,  1816. 

Le  Premier  Venu.     Paris,  1818. 

Les  Trocqueurs ;  L' Amour  Platon- 
ique.     Paris,  1819. 

L'Autcur  mort  et  vivant. 

Le  Muletier ;  Lasthe'nic  ;  Vendomc 
en  Espagnc.     Paris,  1823. 

Le  Roi  Rene.     Paris,  1824. 

Lc  Lapin  Blanc.     1825. 

Marie.     Paris,  November,  1826. 

L'lllusion.     Paris,  July  19, 1829. 

L'Aubergc  d'Auray.     Paris,  1830. 


534 


LIST   OF    OPERAS. 


Emmeline ;  La  Marquise  de  Brinvil- 

liers.     1830. 
I^ampa.     Paris,  May,  1831. 

La  Medecine  sans  Medecin.     Paris, 

October  19,  1832. 
Le  Pre  aux  Clercs.     Paris,  1832. 

BELLINI. 

Andelson  e  Salvina.     Naples,  1825. 

Bianca  e  Gernando.     Naples,  1826. 

La  Straniera.     Milah,  1829. 

II  Pirata.     Milan,  1829. 

Zaira.     Parma,  1829. 

I  Capuletti   e    Montecclii.     Venice, 
March  12, 1830. 
LJLa  Sonnambula.     Milan,  1831. 
l^orma.     Milan,  January  1,  1832. 

Beatrice  di  Tenda.     Venice,  1833. 

^I  Puritani.     Paris,  1835, 

PERSIAN!. 

Piglia  il  Mondo  come  viene.  Flor- 
ence, 1826. 

L'Inimico  Generoso,  Florence ;  Atti- 
la,  Parma.     1827. 

Danao  Re  d'Argo.     Florence,  1827. 

Gaston  de  Foix ;  Ines  de  Castro. 

BENEDICT. 

Giacinta  ed  Ernesto.     Naples,  1827. 

I  Portoghesi  in  Goa.     Naples,  1830. 
Un  Anno  ed  un   Giorno.     Naples, 

1836. 
The  Gipsy's  Warning.   London,  1838. 
The    Brides    of  Venice.      London, 

April  22, 1844. 
The  Crusaders.     London,  1846. 
The    Lily   of   Killarney.      London, 

February,  1862. 

NIEDERMEYER. 

II  Reo  per  Amore,  Naples ;  Une  Nuit 
dans  la  Foret,  Paris  ;  Marie  Stuart, 
Paris. 

Stradella.     Paris,  1836. 
La  Fronde.     1853. 

COSTA. 

II  Carcera  d'  Ildegonda.  Naples,  1828. 
Malvina.     Naples,  1829. 
Malek  Adhel.     Paris,  1837. 
Don  Carlos.    London,  1834. 

FLOTOW. 

L'Ame  en  Peine ;  Stradella. 
Die  Matrosen.     Hamburg,  1845. 
Marta.     1848. 


La  Grande  Duchesse.     Berlin,  1850. 
Rubezahl;  Sophia  Catharina;  Indra, 

Vienna.     1853. 
Albin.     Vienna,  1855. 

ADOLPHE  ADAM. 
Pierre  et  Catherine.     Paris,  1829. 
Danilowa.     Paris,  April,  1830. 


Paris, 


Paris, 


Paris,  1840. 


Le    Morceau    d'Ensemble. 

March,  1831. 
Le  Grand  Prix.     Paris,  1831. 
Le  Proscit.     Paris,  1833. 
Une  Bonne  Fortune.     1834. 
Le  Chalet.     1834. 
Le  Postilion  de  Longjumeau. 

October  15,  1836. 
Le  Brasseur  de  Preston.     1839. 
La  Reine  d'un  Jour.     1840. 
La  Rose  de  Peronne. 
Le  Roi  d'  Yvetot.     1843. 
Richard  de  Palestine.     Paris,  1844. 
Le  Toreador.     1849. 
Giralda ;    ou,  la   Nouvelle    Psyche'. 

1850. 
La  Poupee  de  Nuremberg.     1852. 
Le  Bijou  Perdu.     1853. 
Le  Roi  des  Halles.     1853. 
Le  Muletier  de  Tolede.     1854. 
Le  Fidele  Berger.     1855. 
Falstaff.     1855. 

Le  Houssard  de  Berchini.     1855. 
Mamz'elle  Genevieve.     1856. 

BALFE. 

I  Rivali  di  Se  Stessi.    Palermo,  1829. 

Un'  Avvertimento  in  Gelosi.  Pavia, 
1830. 

Enrico  IV.  al  Passo  della  Marna. 
Milan,  1831. 

The  Siege  of  Rochelle.  London,  Oc- 
tober 29,  1835. 

The  Maid  of  Artois.     London,  1886. 

Catharine  Grey.     London,  1837. 

Joan  of  Arc.     London,  1837. 

Diadeste ;  or,  the  Veiled  Lady.  Lon- 
don, 1838. 

Falstaff.     London,  1838. 

Keolante.     London,  March  3, 1841. 

Le  Puits  d'Amour.     Paris,  1843. 

Geraldine  ;  or,  the  Lover's  Well. 
London,  Ai^ust,  1843.  (Transla- 
tion of  Le  Puits  d'Amour.) 

The  Bohemian  Girl.  London,  No- 
vember 27, 1843. 

Les  Quatre  Fils  Aymon.  Paris,  July, 
1843. 


LIST  OP    OPERAS. 


535 


The  Daughter  of  St.  Mark.  London, 
November  27, 1844. 

The  Enchantress.     London,  1845. 

L'Etoile  de  Seville.     Paris,  1845. 

The  Bondman.     London,  1846. 

The  Devil's  in  it.     London,  1847. 

The  Maid  of  Honor.  London,  De- 
cember 20,  1847. 

The  Sicilian  Bride.     London,  1852. 

Pittore  e  Duca.     Trieste,  1856. 

The  Rose  of  Castile.     London,  1857. 

Satanclla.     London,  1858. 

Bianca ;  or,  the  Bravo's  Bride.  Lon- 
don, December  5, 1860. 

The  Puritan's  Daughter.  London, 
November  30,1861. 

The  Armorer  of  Nantes.  London, 
February  12,  1863. 

BARNETT. 
The  Mountain  Sylph.     London,  Au- 
gust 25,  1834. 
Fair  Kosamond.     London,  1837. 
Farinclli.     London,  1839. 

LODER. 

Nourjahad.     1834. 

Francis  the  First.     1839. 

The  Night  Dancers.     London,  1847. 

Robin  Goodfellow.     1849. 

Raymond  and  Agnes.     1859. 

VERDI. 

Oberto,  Conte  di  St.  Bonifacio.     Mi- 
lan, 1839. 
Un  Giorno  di  Regno.     Milan,  1840. 
Nabuco.     Milan,  1843 

I  Lombardi 

II  Tancredi, 
Ernani.     Milan,  1844. 
I  Duo  Foscari.    Rome,  1844. 
Giovanna  d'Arco.     1845. 
Alzira.     Naples,  1845. 
Attila.     Venice,  1846. 
Macbeth.     Florence,  1847. 
Jerusalem.     Paris,  1847. 

I  Masnadieri.     London,  1847. 
La  Battaglia  di  Lcgnano.     1849. 

II  Corsaro.     Trieste,  1849. 
Luisa  Miller.     Naples,  1849. 
Stiffelio.     Trieste,  1850. 
II  Finto  Stanislas.     1850. 
Rigoletto.    Venice,  1851. 
II  Trovatore.     Rome,  1853. 


Milan,  1843. 


La  Traviata.     Venice,  1853. 

Les  Veprcs  Siciliennes.     Paris,  June 

13,  1855. 
Simon  Boccanegra.     1857. 
Un  Ballo  in  Maschera.     Paris,  1861. 
La  Forza  del  Dcstino.     1862. 

MACFARREN. 
Devil's  Opera.     London,  1838. 
Don  Quixote.     London,  1846. 
Charles  the  Second.     London,  1849. 
Sleeper  Awakened.     London,  1850. 
Robin  Hood.     London,  1860. 

AMBROISE   THOMAS. 
Le  Panier  Fleuri.     1839. 
Mina. 
Le  Caid ;   Songe  d'une  Nuit  d'Ete'. 

1850. 
Raymond.     1851. 
La  Tonelli.     1853. 
La  Cour  de  Celimene.     1855. 
Le    Carnaval    de  Venise ;    Psyche. 

1857. 
Le  Roman  d'Elvire.     1860. 

WALLACE. 
Maritana.     London,  1845. 
Matilda  of  Hungary. 
Lurline.    London,  February  23,1860. 
The  Amber  Witch.     London,  1861. 
Love's  Triumph.     London,  1862. 

SCHIRA. 

Mina.     London,  1849. 

Nicolo  di  Lapi.     London,  1863. 

GOUNOD. 
Sappho.     Paris,  1851. 
La  Nonne  Sanglante. 
Le    Me'dccin    malgre    Lui. 

1858. 
Faust.      Paris    (Theatre    Lyrique), 

March  19, 1859. 
Philemon  ct  Baucis.     Paris,  1860. 
Colorabe.     Baden-Baden,  1860. 
Le  Fancon.     Baden-Baden,  1861. 
La  Heine  de  Saba.     Paris,  1861. 

GLOVER. 

Aminta.     London,  1852. 

Ruy  Bias.     London,  Oct.  24,  1861 . 

MELLON. 
Victorine.     Covent  Garden,  1859. 


Paris,  1854. 


Paris, 


Note. — This  List  of  Operas  docs  not,  with  very  few  exceptions,  include  Operettas,  Musical 
Pieces,  Musical  Farces,  Entertainments,  or  Interludes. 


J 


ALPHABETICAL  LIST  OF  DRAMATIC  COMPOSERS 
NOT  PRE-EMINENT  AS  OPERATIC  WRITERS. 


Abadia. 

Bigaglia. 

Gary. 

Dugazon. 

Abert. 

Biletta, 

Cavalli. 

Duggan. 

Acciajuoli. 

Bioni, 

Champein. 

Dumoulin. 

Aimon. 

Blaise. 

Chancoiirtois. 

Duprato. 

Alary. 

Blamont. 

Chapelle(P.D.A.). 

Duprcz. 

Albiiioni. 

Blangini. 

Charpentier     (M. 

Durette. 

Aldrovrandini. 

Blavet. 

A.). 

Dutillieu. 

Alessandri. 

Blum. 

Chelard. 

Andreozzi. 

Blumenthal. 

Chelleri. 

Ebell. 

Apell. 

Boieldieu(Adrien) 

Chiaramonte. 

Eccles. 

Ardita. 

Boisselot. 

Chiochetti. 

Eckert. 

Arienzo  (d'). 

Bondineri. 

Ciampi. 

Ehrlich. 

Arion. 

Boniventi. 

Ciebra  (Jose  de). 

Eisner. 

Ariosti. 

Bononcini. 

Clapisson. 

Erkel. 

Arrietta. 

Borde  (Ue  la). 

Clayton. 

Astaritta. 

Boretti, 

Cocchi. 

Fabrizi. 

Attwood. 

Borghi. 

Conradi. 

Farinelli  (J.). 

Boroni. 

Consolini. 

Federici. 

Barata  (Dalla). 

Boscha. 

Conti. 

Fee. 

Barbate. 

Bottesini. 

Cooke. 

Ferrari  (J.  G.). 

Bassani. 

Bousquet. 

Coppola. 

Fe'tis. 

Batistin. 

Bouteiller. 

Cordans. 

Finger. 

Battista. 

Boyce. 

Cortesi. 

Fioravanti. 

Beck. 

Braeunich. 

Cousser   (or  Kns- 

Fischer  (A.). 

Beer  (Jules). 

Braga. 

ser). 

Fischietti. 

Beffroy  de  Keigny. 

Brandl. 

Cramer  (F.). 

Floquct. 

Bellermann. 

Brassac. 

Foertsch. 

Benda  (G.  and  F. 

Bristow. 

David  (F.). 

Foignet. 

L.). 

Bronner. 

Davies. 

Fraenzl. 

Beninconi. 

Broschi  (R.). 

Davy. 

Franck(J.-\V.) 

Benvenuti. 

Brown. 

Dcffcrrari. 

Francocur. 

Berendt. 

Brunetti  (A.  B.). 

Delia  Maria. 

Bergson. 

Bruni. 

Deluse. 

Gail  (Mdme.). 

Berlioz. 

Buini. 

Desmarets. 

Gambini. 

Bcrnabei. 

Dessaue. 

Garcia. 

Bernardini. 

Cacciati. 

Dezedc    (or    De- 

Gasparini  (F.). 

Bernasconi. 

Cadaux. 

zaides). 

Gasse. 

Bertin  (Mademoi- 

Cagnoni. 

Ditters  de  Ditters- 

Gassmann. 

selle  Louise). 

Caldara. 

dorf. 

Gaveaux. 

Berton  (P.  M,  and 

Campra. 

Doerstlinp. 

Gavinies. 

F.). 

Candeille. 

Dominicetti. 

Gazzaniga. 

Bertoni. 

Capecelatro. 

Dojipler. 

Gentili. 

Berwald. 

Capelli. 

Dorn. 

Gerl  (or  Gocrl). 

Bianchi  (F.). 

Carrer. 

Dourlen. 

Gevaert. 

Bierey. 

Caruso. 

Draghi. 

Giacometti. 

Z2 


538 


ALPHABEUCAL   LIST   OF   DRAMATIC   COMPOSERS. 


Giardini. 

Laruette. 

Offenbach. 

Ritter. 

Roesler. 

Giordani  (J.). 

Lasser. 

Orgitano. 

Giosa  (Di). 

Leblanc. 

Orlandi. 

Roeth. 

Glinka. 

Leborne. 

Orlandini. 

Romani. 
Ronzi. 

Godefroi. 

Lebrun  (L.  S.). 

Ottani. 

GoUmick. 

Le'gat  de  Furcy. 

Rooke. 

Grand. 

Lescot. 

Paganini  (E.). 

Rosi. 

Graun. 

Leveridge. 

Paini. 

Rota. 
Rubinstein. 

Gresnick. 

Lillo. 

Pallavicino. 

Grisar. 

Liranander. 

Pappalardo. 

Rust. 

Guglielmi. 

Lindpaintner. 

Parenti. 

Guhr. 

Linley  (T.). 

Pavesi. 

Sabadini. 

Giirrlich. 

Litolff. 

Pedrotti, 

Saint  Amans. 

Gyrowetz. 

Liverati. 

Pellaert. 

Salvator. 

Lobe. 

Penso. 

Sanelli. 

Haeffner. 

Locke  (M.). 

Pentenrieder. 

Sarmiento. 

Haeser  (A.  F.). 

Lotti. 

Perez. 

Schauensee. 

Hanssens. 

Louis. 

Peri. 

Schefer. 

Hart  (J.). 

Louis  (Mme.). 

Pernio. 

Schindelmeisser. 
Schmidt  (J.  P.  S.).             , 

Haydn  (J.  M.). 

Lucehesi. 

Perti. 

Heinricken. 

Lutz  (Meyer). 

Pescetti. 

Schuster.                            '' 

Hellwig. 

Petrella. 

Schwab.                             ' 

Helmesberger. 

Mabellini. 

Petrocini. 

Schwanberg. 

Hermann. 

Maillard. 

Philidor(F.A.D.). 

Schweitzer.                        j 

Hiller. 

Maillart. 

Piccinni  (Louis). 

Sciroli.                              ! 

Himmel. 

Mangold. 

Pignatta. 

Scolari. 

Holzbauer. 

Mansfield. 

Pistilli. 

Seechi.                               ! 

Horn(Clias.Ed.). 

Marais. 

Pixis. 

Sellenik.                             ' 

Huber. 

Marschner. 

Poise. 

Semet. 

HuUah  (J.). 

Masse'. 

Polarolo  (or  Polla- 

Simons    Candeille 

Mattheson. 

rolo). 

(Mme.). 

Inenga. 

Mazzinghi. 

Ponchielli. 

Sinico. 
Smith  (Robt.). 

Membree. 

Porta  (Jean). 

Jadin(L.E.). 

Micelli. 

Potier. 

Sola.                                  J 

Jones. 

Michl. 

Predieri  (L.  A.). 

Solie'.                                1 

Jozzi. 

Mijore. 

Propriac. 

Soliva.                              1 

Jullien. 

Milototti. 

Pucitta. 

Spaeth.                             1 

Minoja. 

Pugnani. 

Steibelt. 

Kaffka. 

Mononyi. 

Puzone. 

Stolz. 

Keiser. 

Monteverde. 

Puzzi. 

Stopler. 

Kelly. 

Montfort. 

Strungk. 

King. 

Monti. 

Raff. 

Stukersky. 

Kinki. 

Morel. 

Raimondi. 

Sussmayer. 

Kirchliof. 

Moroni. 

Rampini. 

Kittel. 

Mortcllari. 

Raphael. 

Taddei. 

Kozeluch   (J.  A. 

Mosca. 

Rastrelli. 

Tadolini. 

and  L.). 

Moscenza. 

Rauzzini 

Tarchi. 

Krcube. 

Moscuzzi. 

Rebel. 

Taubert.                          ;| 

Krieger. 

Mouret. 

Reeve. 

Taylor. 

Muhle. 

Reicha. 

Tell.                                  1 

Labarre. 

Muzio. 

Reissiger. 

Thalberg.                          ] 

Lampe  (J.  F.). 

Ressell. 

Tommasi.                         ^ 

Lampugnani. 

Nargiller. 

Reyer. 

Tori  (or  Torri). 

Langert. 

Naumann. 

Ricci  (F.  and  L.). 

Tozzi. 

Langle. 

Nicosia. 

Righi. 

Traversari.                       jj 

Lannoy. 

Nini. 

Righini. 

Trento.                             | 

ALPHABETICAL   LIST   OF   DKAilATIC   COMPOSEES. 


539 


Tritto. 

Vento. 

Weber  (C.  G.  and 

Wolfram  (J.). 

Tuczck. 

Vera. 

B.  A.). 

Wollanck. 

TuUy. 

Villebois. 

Wely. 

Wraniczky   (or 

Umlauff. 

Villebranch, 
Vivaldi. 

Wcrstowski. 
Westmeyer. 

Wranitzky). 
Wiirst. 

Valente. 

Vivier. 

Williams. 

Vancorbeil. 

Witt. 

Ziani. 

Van  der  Does. 

Wagner. 

Woelffl. 

Zoppi. 

Vannacci. 

Webbe  (E.). 

Wolf  (E.  G.). 

Zumsteeg. 

Note. — An  enumeration  of  the  works  of  these  Dramatic  Composers  will, 
for  the  greater  part,  be  found  in  the  Dictionnaire  des  Musiciens  of  AI.  Fe'tis. 


« 


INDEX. 


Adam  (Adolphe),  534. 
Addison— his  "Fair  llosamond,"  21. 
"Agrippina"  (llandul),  20. 
Alboni  (Madame),  439. 
Ambrogetti,  '230. 
Anfossi,  5-'2. 
"Armide"  (LiiUi),  40. 
Arne  (Dr.),51T. 
Aniold,  520. 
Arnould  (Sophie),  80. 
"  Artaxerxe.-i"  (Arne),  1C5. 
Auber,  31S,  324,  533. 

Ayrton  (director  of  the  King'a  Theatre),  214, 
218, 246. 

Bach  (John  Chriatlan),  521. 

Balfe,  534. 

Uarbaja,  21T. 

Barnett,  035. 

15arone.s3  (The),  20. 

Bates  (Joah),  110,  111. 

Beethoven,  529. 

"  Bcggai's  (Jpera"  (The),  36,  517. 

Bellini  (Vincenzo),  263,  357, 360, 366, 367,  D68, 

534. 
Benedict,  534. 
Bernard  (John),  l."}5. 
Billington  (Elizabeth),  153. 
Bi.«hop,  529. 
Boieldieu,  528. 
Boachi,  28,  29. 
Bosio  (Angiolina),  451. 
Brahara  (John),  146,  147,  148,  149, 1G4,  204, 

214,  281. 

Camporeae  (Violante),  228. 

Caradori  (Koaalbina),  235. 

Carafa,  531. 

Caros  (director  of  La  Fenicc),  1S5. 

CatJilani  (AngeUca),  183, 223, 303, 430. 

(Guglielmo),  190. 

Catel,  221,  528. 

Cherubini,  523. 

Choron  (M.),  219,  384. 

Cimarosa,  522. 

Clairon  (Mdlle.),90. 

Clayton  (Thomas),  15,  IS. 

"Clemenza  di  Tito"  (Mozart),  170. 

Clive  (Mrs.),  68. 

Coccia,  529. 

Cbmposers  (List  of),  537. 

Concialini  (Charles),  102,  104. 

Congreve,  37. 

Costa,  534. 

Crescentini,  173,  ISO. 

Crivelli,  230. 

Croelius,  401. 

Crouch  (Mr!=.1,  125. 

Cruvelli  (Sophie),  483. 

Cuzzoni  (Signora),  62, 


Dalavrac,  524. 

Daly'(Richard),  155. 

Damoreau  (Madame  Cinti),  22L 

Delany  (Mrs.),  30,  40. 

Devrient  (Madame  Schroder),  28S. 

Dibdin,  525. 

Donizetti,  263, 376,  377, 415, 416,  419,  531. 

Donzelli,  242,  345, 307. 

Dumenil,  48. 

Duprez,  320,  416. 

Durastanti  (Margherita),  29 

Elliston,  272. 
Entraigucs  (Count  d'),  96. 
Epine  (Margarita  de  I'),  15. 

Falcon  (Cornelie),  323. 

Farinelli,  5S,  00. 

Fassmann  (Mdlle.  Von),  3S9. 

Faustina  (Signora),  53. 

Fcnton  (Lavinia),  Duchess  of  Bolton,  35. 

Fisher  (violinist),  141. 

Flotow,  534. 

Fodor  (Madame  Mainville),  213,  252,  299. 

Francoeur,  81. 

Frederick  the  Great,  61,100, 102, 103, 105. 

French  Opera,  43. 

Gabriclli  (Catarina),71. 

Galli  (Filippo), -147. 

Gallia  (Maria  Margherita),  17. 

Gallo  (director  of  the  Teatro  Emeronnitio), 

350. 
Galuppi,  516. 
Garcia  (Manuel),  216,  33ft,  333,  336-337,  347, 

353,401. 

(.Manuel,  jr.),  426,465. 


Gay,  30,  40 

Gencrali,  528. 

George  (Mi.s.«),  ICO. 

Giardini  (Felice),  59,  67,  6?,  70. 

Glover,  53.'). 

Gliick.  46,  87, 92,  518. 

Gnccco,  533. 

Goldi-chniidt  (M.  Otto),  481. 

Gossec,  .'>20. 

Gounod.  S.'iO. 

Graa  (Madame  Doru?),  313,  431. 

Grassini  (Madame',  173,  1S2. 

Greber  (Giacomo),  10, 19. 

Gretry,  520. 

Grisi  (Carlotta),  310. 

(Giuditta),  363,  369,  370. 

(Giulia),  363. 


Gii.idagni,  72. 

Guimard  (Mdlle.),  140. 

"  Gustave"  (Auber),  318,  324. 

Ilalovy,  320,  .533. 
HaU  (Jack),  38. 


>\mijjiy 


542 


Handel,  28, 29,  31,  52,  55,  5S,  59, 515. 

Festival,  109. 

Harrington,  Dr.,  99. 
Hasse,  60,  64,  66,  516. 
Haydn,  160,  521. 
Hayes  (Catharine),  423. 
Herold,  318,  533. 
Huberty  (Madame  St.),  9L 
Hugo  (Victor),  449. 
"Hugupnots"  (Les),  325-32T. 
Hummel,  529. 

Isouard  (Nicolo),  526. 

Johnson  (Dr.),  127. 
Jomelli,  517. 

Joseph  (Emperor),  108, 140. 
Josephine  (Empress),  176. 

Kelly  (Michael),  113,  131,  132, 134, 140,  142, 

143,  ITS,  209. 
Kemble,  128. 
Kreutzer,  525. 
Kunzen,  526. 

Lablache,  264,  350, 353, 359, 425, 426, 455, 472. 

Lanza,  2G7. 

Lauraguais  (Count  de),  82,  85,  90. 

Leo  (Leonardo),  517. 

Lesueur,  524. 

Lind-Goldschmidt  (Madame),  461-. 

Linley,126. 

Loder,  535. 

Lulli,  43,  44,  515. 

Luraley  (Mr.),  311. 

Lundberg  (Frau),  461. 

Macfarren,  535. 

Malibran  (Madame),  241,  306,  807,  330,  386, 

418. 
Mara  (Madame'),  97. 
Mario  (Signor),  375,  376,  422. 
Martini,  522. 
Mason  (Monck),  292. 
Maupin  (Mdlle.  de),  46. 
Mayer,  528. 
M«5hul,  525. 
MeUon,  535. 
Jlercadante,  532. 
Metastasio,  65,  73. 
Meyerbeer,  239,  315,  318,  819,  326,  448,  466, 

468,  488,  532. 
Mingotti  (Catariua),  63. 
Monsigny,  518. 
Morelii,  144. 
Morlacchi,  530. 
Mozart,  520. 
Musical  Riv.alries  and  Disputes,  18, 53, 68,  88, 

214,  21S,  -241,  242,  306, 335,  3T7,  390, 432, 

449,  4:i8. 

Napoleon,  172, 174, 176, 180, 191. 

Nasolini,  526. 

Naumann,  522. 

Niccolini,  527. 

Niederraeyer,  534.        * 

Nisscn  (.Mdlle.),  465. 

"Norma"  (Bellini),  367. 

Nourrit  (.\dolphe),  317,  320,  325,326, 402. 

Novello  (Madame  Clara),  333. 

(Vincent),  383,  384. 

"Oberon"  (Weber),  280. 
Operas  (List  of),  515. 


rtti,  76, 77,117. 
,»31. 
Paer,  524. 
Paisiello,  518. 
Parke  (oboe  player),  119. 
Parodi  (Mdlle.),  266. 
"  Pasquale,  Don"  (Donizetti),  376,  377. 
Pasta  (Madame),  218,  246, 841,  366,  367, 875. 
Paton  (Mary  Anne),  274. 
Pepusch  (Dr.),  22, 25,  37. 
Pergolese,  517. 
Persiani  (Elisa),  414. 

(Fanny),  413. 

(Joseph),  534. 

Persuis,  524. 

Peterborough  (Earl  of),  30, 
Piccini,  93,  94,  523. 
Piccolomini  (Mdlle.),  493. 
Pisaronl  (Madame),  238. 
Plantade  (M.),  221. 
Porpora,  517. 
Portogallo,  526. 
Pozzi  (Anna),  78. 
Piicke  (Count),  461. 
"Puritani,  1"  (Bellini),  371. 
Purcell,515. 
Pyne  (Miss),  502. 

Quin,  37. 
.Quinault,  44, 45. 

Ragani  (Colonel),  181,  364,  374,  455. 

'Raraeaii,  86,  517. 

Rauzzini,  76. 

Reeves  (Mr.  Sims),  432. 

Reichardt,  522. 

Rich,  36,  37. 

"Rigoletto"  (Verdi),  453. 

"Robert  le  Diable"   (Meyerbeer),  226,  285, 

316. 
Robinson  (Mrs.  Anastasia),  25,  26. 
Rochois  (Marthe  le),  43. 
Rochefoucault  (M.  le  Vicomte  Sosthenes),  217, 

240,  302. 
Rossini,  216,  219,  224,  225,  317,  319,  375,  439, 

530. 
Rubini,  264,  352,  419,  420,  429, 455. 

Sacchini,  519. 

Salaries  given  to  Vocalists,  57,  58,  60,  75,  76, 
79,  103,  ICS,  156,  153,  165,  177, 186, 192, 
195,  204,  210,  233,  257,  259,  263,  272,  303, 
306,  309,  311,  321,  334,  844,  848,  351,  nr,4, 
355,  378,  419,  421,  430,  446,  455,  470,  7, 
479,  488,  489. 

Salieri,  521. 

Salmon  (Mrs.),  193,  204. 

Sarti,  518. 

Scarlatti,  515. 

Schira,  535. 

Schroder  (Sophia),  288. 

Senesino,  28,  30,  58,  59. 

Shaw  (Mrs.  A.),  388,  393. 

Sheridan,  his  "PizaiTO,"  185, 138.  ty 

Shield,  160,  523. 

Sontag  (llem-ietta),  242, 296,  849. 

(Nina),  307. 

Spohr,  530. 

Spontini,  527. 

Sta\idigl,  393. 

Stephens  (Catharine),  207. 

Storace  (Anna  Selina),  138. 

(Stephen),  134, 142, 143, 146,146, 626. 

St.  Petersburg  (Theatres  of),  450. 


iC' 


wr'i 


543 


Sunday  Operas,  258. 

Swift,  24,  30. 

Swiney  (Owen  Mac),  lH,  20,  22. 

Tacchinardi,  413,  414,  422. 
Tamburini,  370. 
Tcnducci,  104. 
Thomas  (-■imbroise),  535. 
Tietjens  (Mdllc.),  507. 
Todi  (Madame),  JO!). 
Tofte  (Katherine),  15. 
Traetta,  527. 
Tree  (Miss  A.  M.),  27G. 

Ungher  (Madame),  371. 

Vaccaj,  533. 
Valentini,  20. 

Vaneschi  (director  of  the  King's  Theatre), 
67. 


Velluti,  335. 

Verdi,  -152,  45.%  40T,  537. 
Viiron  (Dr.),  315,  316,  319,  825. 
Vestris  (Madame),  282. 
Viardot  (M.),35-.',  406. 

(Madame  Pauline),  398. 

Vinci.  510. 

Vogler,  523. 

Voice  (capabilities  of  the),  78. 

Walker  (Tom),  37, 41. 
Wallace,  535 
Weber,  280,  282,  290,  .532. 
Weichsel  (CharlfP),  153, 154, 161. 

fMrs.),  153. 

Weigl,  5.'i0. 
Winter,  529. 
Woffiugton(Peg),40. 

Zingarelli,  523. 


THE  EXD. 


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